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 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS
 
 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS 
 
 BY 
 
 L. B. WALFOED 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'MR SMITH : A PAPT OF HIS LIFB,' ' PAULINE, 
 'COUSINS,' ETC. 
 
 " Truth severe, 
 By fairy Fiction dressed." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. T. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXX
 
 8^^ 
 
 VaJKJC 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE EIEST VOLUME, 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAP. PACK 
 
 r. A WINDY NIGEIT, 3 
 
 II. LUXURY, 23 
 
 III. CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS, . 39 
 
 IV. A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF, . . .* 59 
 
 PART II. 
 
 V. EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN, . . 85 
 
 VL MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE, . 104 
 
 VII. "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY," . . .125 
 
 VIII. " OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND," . . 145
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAIiT III. 
 
 IX. NAUGHTY KATE, 160 
 
 X. A MERRY EVENING AT THE 3IUIRLAND FARM,. 195 
 
 XI. A BROTHERLY ADMONITION, . . . .221 
 
 XII. THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED, . . 244
 
 PAKT I,
 
 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 
 
 " But when that the cloud lays its cheek to the flood, 
 And the wave lays its shouther to the shore, 
 When the wind sings high, and the sea-whaups cry, 
 As they rise from the deafening roar, — 
 
 0, merry he sits 'mang his jovial crew, 
 
 Wi' the helm-heft in his hand, 
 And he sings aloud to his boys in blue, 
 As his ee's on th6 Gallowa land. " 
 
 - AiNSLIE. 
 
 The wind was blowing in from the sea, and the 
 waves were thundering along the rugged coast 
 of Galloway, one wild and dusky evening to- 
 wards the latter end of September. 
 
 In vain did the flickering sunset struggle for 
 a corner of the heavens — it was speedily over- 
 cast ; and invisible then was the long line of
 
 4 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 white-capped breakers, whose steady beat upon 
 the land could be heard far and near, ere they 
 surged over the rocks, rolling in their treasures 
 of weed, and grass, and broken shells before 
 them. 
 
 Far as the eye could reach, it was a bleak and 
 lonely region over which, unchecked, the sea- 
 breeze made its way. 
 
 The moorlands were wastes of bog and moss, 
 surmounted by the red waving grass peculiar to 
 the district ; the woods were mere clumps of 
 trees roughly huddled together, — and these be- 
 ing perpetually bent before the prevailing blast, 
 presented, from their stunted growth and mis- 
 shapen boughs, an air of sorrowful endurance, 
 which was heightened almost to the pitch of 
 pathos when winter displayed their bare and 
 interlaced branches. 
 
 Solitary stragglers with the same woe-worn 
 aspect, dotted the fields, affording, in their bat- 
 tered 'and beaten -down condition, a series of 
 roofs for the black cattle of the country, who in 
 •bad weather cowered underneath. 
 
 Between the villages, which lay at a consider- 
 able distance from each other, there were but 
 few dwelling-houses, and only at long intervals
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 5 
 
 were tracts of land separated from one another 
 by walls of loosely - piled stones. These last 
 were vie^ved, on the evening in question, with 
 especial ill - will by *a sportsman who, at the 
 close of a successful day's fishing, was making 
 his way down from the moor, and who, encum- 
 bered as he was with his rod, his creel, and 
 various good trout of creditable size and weight, 
 found getting over the tottering obstacles no 
 easy matter. 
 
 Supporting himself, however, by an occasional 
 interjection, and by the consideration that if he 
 could once gain the highroad he should proceed 
 much more rapidly, he bade defiance to the 
 roughness of the w^ay and the bufi'eting of the 
 elements, and stepped forward with as good 
 a heart as could be expected from a wet and 
 weary man, who sees a neighbourhood with 
 which he is at best but imperfectly ac- 
 quainted, rapidly becoming obscured in the 
 twilight. 
 
 Captain Eupert Evelyn — for such was the 
 stranger s name — had been from an early hour 
 stumbling about among moss-hags, peat-marshes, 
 and stony beds of mountain-torrents which only 
 burst forth during the floods of winter ; and had
 
 6 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 he allowed himself to own the truth, he must 
 have confessed that nothins^ would now have 
 gladdened his eyes more than the view, within 
 a reasonable distance, of Castle Kenrick, the 
 friend's house at which he was then staying. 
 
 Having, however, declined the attendance of 
 a guide or keeper, asserting roundly that he had 
 never lost his way in his life, and that, more- 
 over, he knew every inch of the road down 
 from the country above to the little port near 
 which the hospitable mansion stood, towards 
 which his steps were to be at eventide directed, 
 he felt that he had no right to grumble, and 
 that he ought to suffer, without even an inward 
 protest, such protracted inconvenience as arose 
 from his taking a round instead of the direct 
 path, which a native of the district would pro- 
 bably have pointed out. 
 
 Nor did he disobey the monitor's voice ; — the 
 more gloomy and peevish grew the sky, and the 
 more penetrating the blast, the more doggedly 
 and silently he faced it : but unconsciously his 
 steps slackened, and his eyes wistfully searched 
 the landscape at every opportunity. 
 
 " If I had not to face the wind," he con- 
 sidered, *'I could get along well enough; but.
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 7 
 
 however, I knew in the morning I should have 
 to fight my way back." 
 
 The reminiscence might be consoling, but the 
 battle became increasingly hard to sustain ; nor 
 was our wayfarer in any way reassured by hopes 
 of its having a speedy termination. 
 
 Heights were climbed, points were rounded, 
 and level pieces of land were steadily left be- 
 hind; but although on each occasion he promised 
 himself a joyful surprise behind the ever-re- 
 newed veil in front, he was doomed only to 
 repeated and vexatious disappointment. 
 
 At length a sharper turn of the road than 
 usual, on a promontory only a short distance 
 off, gave the required fillip to his spirits, which 
 enabled him to brace himself stoutly to the 
 ascent ; and though serious misgivings had now 
 taken the place of his first lurking qualms of 
 uneasiness, he gained the summit at a brisk 
 pace. 
 
 Alas for human incredulity ! 
 
 The gathering dusk hid, it is true, much of 
 the prospect now opened up, — and well was it 
 for our unlucky pedestrian that it did, since, 
 had the light been good, he must have viewed 
 the road he was traversing still wending its
 
 8 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 endless way on ahead, a broad white mark on 
 the hillside, — but although such a vision was 
 mercifully withheld, enough still remained to 
 confound and subdue. 
 
 Headlands upon which the sea was raging, 
 bleak and desolate reaches of moor above, 
 thickets black under the murky sky, alone met 
 his bewildered gaze. 
 
 He stopped short, sat down, and pulled a 
 long, grave, miserable face. 
 
 Now was the time for soliloquy. An ex- 
 perienced soliloquist might have made anything 
 he chose out of such a situation : there was an 
 opportunity, such as rarely is given, for plaint 
 composed of retrospection, apprehension, dis- 
 traction, and a dozen other such mental sensa- 
 tions, whereof we, the chroniclers, might have 
 had the benefit — and it would have saved us 
 some trouble in the way of explanation if we 
 had, — but this fool of an Evelyn never opened 
 his lips. 
 
 He was in a mess, and he saw no w^ay out of 
 it. The storm was increasing momentarily; and 
 no habitation, neither cottage nor castle, was 
 visible anywhere. 
 
 Fate, however, taking pity on the baffled
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 9 
 
 wretch, who was obviously punished to the full 
 extent of his demerits, presently sent his way a 
 deliverer, in the" shape of a stout country wife, 
 who had been following in his wake for some 
 distance, and who caught him up at this point. 
 From her he could at least ascertain the extent 
 of his misfortunes. 
 
 " Hey ! " said Evelyn, briskly. " Look here. 
 Can you tell me how far it is to Castle 
 Kenrickr' 
 
 The woman stopped to listen. 
 
 *' Well ? " continued her interrogator. '^ Eh '? 
 Did you not hear me ? Bother this wind ! 
 Castle Kenrick ? " in a louder key. '* Castle 
 Kenrick ? How far ? " 
 
 " Warslin wi' the wund, sir, I canna hear ye." 
 
 "Castle Kenrick 1" bawled Evelyn, at the 
 pitch of his voice. " Castle Keneick ? How 
 far is it from here ? " 
 
 " Couldna say, sir. I hear ye noo. Could- 
 na say, I'm sure. It's a wundy nicht." 
 
 " Windy — humph ! Can t you give a guess^ 
 at least ? A mile, or two miles, or more ? " 
 
 "A mile or twa, or mair? Aweel, — maybe 
 mair." 
 
 " Is it not down in the bay there 1 "
 
 10 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " DouD in the bay yonder '? Doun yonder 1 
 Castle Kenrick?" 
 
 "Where is it, in heaven's name?" cried 
 Evelyn, losing patience at last. " Confound the 
 place ! " 
 
 " Ahint ye, sir, — ahint ye. Oo, ye hae cam the 
 wrang road, I'm thinkin'. Castle Kenrick is 
 ower by," pointing backwards with her finger. 
 ''An I had kenned ye sought Castle Kenrick, 
 I wad hae cried on ye lang syne — though may- 
 be," she added, on reflection, '' ye michtna hae 
 heard muckle o' me." 
 
 '' Probably not." 
 
 " Aweel, but ye mun jist turn ye roond, 
 and baud your way straight back the road ye 
 cam " 
 
 '' V\\ do nothing of the sort." 
 
 *' An' gang ower the bridge " 
 
 '' I tell you I won't." 
 
 " Ye ken M'Cracken s farm ? " 
 
 " Now look here," said the young man, with 
 decision, " I'm not going near M'Cracken's farm 
 to-night. In half an hour more it will be as 
 dark as pitch, and I shan't see to put one foot 
 in front of another. It's blowing a gale, besides. 
 As likely as not I should be found at the bottom
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 11 
 
 of some of these cliffs by morning. You take 
 me home with you '' 
 
 " Hame wi' me ! Gudesakes ! " ejaculated the 
 dame, in not unnatural amazement. '^And 
 whae may you be ? But I ask your pardon, 
 you are a gentleman frae Castle Kenrick. But 
 I dinna ken ; a bit place like oors is no' for 
 quality, unless it be to come in and tak' a 
 rest '' 
 
 *' Ay, that's it. Let me come in and take a 
 rest. Now, it's no use shouting on into each 
 other's faces any longer. Come along, my good 
 woman, and let's get indoors for better, for worse. 
 Why, where are you making for; are we not to 
 keep to the road ? " 
 
 "This is the road for us," replied his com- 
 panion, who, having picked up the heavy basket 
 which she had rested on the ground during the 
 interview, was now kilting up her coats, as she 
 expressed it, to clamber over a low wall at the 
 side, where Evelyn could now perceive that a 
 sort of breach had been made, as though for 
 the purpose. 
 
 There was, however, no footpath nor clearing 
 on the other side ; and as his guide ran down 
 the bank with the agility of a girl, he was as-
 
 12 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tonished, on following, to find himself almost 
 immediately confronted by a cotter's hut, which, 
 snugly ensconced among the brushwood, might 
 even by daylight have been passed by unde- 
 tected from above. 
 
 " This will do very well," reflected our sol- 
 dier; ''I do not return to Castle Kenrick to- 
 night. Brewster will know perfectly well that 
 I have lost my way — the commonest thing in 
 the world in Scotland ; and I can have another 
 turn at the stream before I need put in an ap- 
 pearance to-morrow. On the whole, I could not 
 have fared better." 
 
 A quick imagination had settled the matter 
 thus, even in the few seconds which elapsed 
 between the request being preferred and granted ; 
 and the same lively fancy had conjured up sub- 
 sequently a scene which enabled our soldier to 
 think lightly of all previous disaster, and even 
 to consider with some enjoyment so romantic a 
 termination to his day on the moor. 
 
 As he ran down the bank he beheld himself 
 speedily made welcome to the best that the 
 vaunted hospitality of the Scottish peasantry 
 could offer, partaking of a clean and comfort- 
 able supper, whereof his own trout should be
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. l3 
 
 the mainstay; next forming one of a circle round 
 a blazing peat-fire, and smoking by its cheerful 
 glimmer the friendly pipe ; and finally sleeping 
 the sleep of the just — or, at least, of the sound 
 in wind and limb — on a couch which, though 
 rough, should be bleached white as the driven 
 snow. 
 
 No wonder that, hungry, tired, and wet as he 
 was, there was something in such a vision even 
 more alluring to his jaded senses than in the 
 recollection of the splendid saloon, gay com- 
 pany, and dress - clothes awaiting him in vain 
 at the Castle. The latter, at least, he could well 
 dispense with. 
 
 The door opened, and he was invited to 
 enter. 
 
 Oh bitter, cruel disappointment ! The peat- 
 reek for which he had mentally bargained did 
 indeed, with overwhelming energy, assail his nos- 
 trils, — since it filled the house, unable to find 
 vent in such a wind ; but in every other re- 
 spect, a single moment's survey was sufiicient 
 to show that the fair fabric he had reared so 
 happily was founded on sand. 
 
 It vanished at the first glance. 
 
 The room into which he was conducted, and
 
 14 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 in which three men were already lolling at 
 their ease, was small, suffocatingly close, and 
 wretchedly dirty. Furniture blocked it up 
 on every side ; and instead of the smouldering 
 fiery furnace, overhung by the seething caldron, 
 which his too sanguine spirit had forecast, a 
 dull fire, nearly out, filled a small portion of a 
 modern grate. 
 
 No preparations for a meal, — no scones, oat- 
 cakes, nor girdle-cakes were visible anywhere, 
 but a bowl of uncooked potatoes stood on the 
 low window-sill, and a child of two or three 
 years of age was seated on the floor, busily en- 
 gaged in mashing a raw herring to pieces with 
 a pewter spoon. 
 
 The sight was sickening, joined as it was to 
 a faint, disagreeable odour, which, Evelyn con- 
 cluded, came from a row of wet clothes sus- 
 pended on a string across a portion of the 
 ceiling ; and although not over-nice nor unac- 
 customed to hardships, it was with difficulty 
 that he mastered his disgust sufficiently to 
 prevent his turning sharp round and walking 
 out of the hut as unceremoniously as he had 
 walked in. 
 
 "Hoots, ye lang loons, to let doun my fire
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 15 
 
 on sic a nicht, an me at the toun," began his 
 guide, but without any real resentment or vex- 
 ation in her tone. " Mattie, my dawtie, let 
 that fishie alane. Wull ye no ? Oo, ye re an 
 abbok " — (Anglice, spoilt child) — '' that ye are ! 
 An here's a gentleman speerin' for his supper 
 an' his bed, an' me that sair forfoughten " 
 
 " What's keepit ye *? " growled one of the men. 
 
 ''An what's the gentleman's wull at this 
 time o' the nicht ? " said another. '' There's 
 naethin' here for gentlemen; but we mun a' do 
 your pleesure, nae doot," ironically. 
 
 '"Sakes, gudeman, it's sma' pleesure to me.* 
 But sit ye doan, sir — sit ye doun. I'm thinkin' 
 a drappie frae this " — producing a black whisky- 
 bottle — '' wad be weel for you and for me. 
 Hey then ? What for no 1 " in surprise as her 
 visitor turned away. 
 
 With whatever goodwill such an overture 
 might have been met at another time, under 
 present circumstances it was the last straw 
 breaking the camel's back ; and although it is 
 possible that its flat rejection was in a measure 
 owing to there being a half-filled flask still in 
 the pocket of the guest, it was due still more to 
 the nausea the whole spectacle awakened.
 
 16 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 How to beat a retreat, however, was the diffi- 
 culty. He could not stay. Could he possibly 
 go ? Would not the men, ill-tempered, and surly 
 as they were, while indisposed for his company, 
 nevertheless resent his departure ? Even the 
 woman, who had herself demurred at the first, 
 was now endeavouring, by a series of " Sit ye 
 doun, sirs," to inveigle the unfortunate visitor 
 into one of the crazy chairs with which the place 
 abounded. Could he escape, and not make 
 them, one and all, wrathful 1 
 
 We tell this to show the sort of man Evelyn was. 
 * He never hesitated after the first moment, 
 and that moment's pause betokened merely re- 
 luctance to wound the feelings of any one, of 
 any degree. The instant his mind was made up 
 he achieved his purpose, — and that by no aid but 
 that of simple address, politeness, and pluck, for 
 he had neither purse nor pence with him, and 
 he did not even leave his trout behind to share 
 the fate of the mangled herring. 
 
 He found himself now once again at the 
 mercy of the wind and rain, well out of the 
 scrape as regarded the filthy den into which 
 his own precipitation had led him, but still no 
 nearer than he had been a quarter of an hour
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 17 
 
 before towards attaining any desirable end to 
 his adventures. Tlie only thing he had gained 
 was the knowledge that he had been for the 
 past hour and a half walking away from his 
 destination instead of to it. The wind had 
 shifted its quarter, and had deceived him. 
 
 With the increase of the gale — which, gather- 
 ing vehemence with a flowing tide, threatened a 
 hurricane before night — the rain, however, had 
 ceased. He might hope, by trudging steadily 
 back, to reach Castle Kenrick drier than he was 
 as he now stood, and he would have the boister- 
 ous blast at his back all the way. 
 
 With a sigh he was prejDaring to start, when 
 a curious panting sound, like a breathless but 
 urgent whisper into his very ear, startled him 
 into dropping his fishing-rod and uttering a 
 loud shout. 
 
 '^ I beg your pardon,^' said the voice, dis- 
 tinctly this time. *' I am afraid I alarmed you, 
 but I could not make you hear, and I was sure 
 something was the matter.'' Even in the midst 
 of so short an explanation a squall carried off 
 the speaker, and swung her round till she was 
 several feet off, and the end of the sentence was 
 lost. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 This, however, was of no consequence. 
 
 Evelyn beheld a slight feminine form, shawled 
 and wrapped to the chin ; and although the fea- 
 tures could be but dimly traced in the flicker- 
 ing light, and the utterances be but indistinctly 
 caught, he fancied that it was not the face, nor 
 yet the voice, of a common labourer's daughter. 
 
 " Here's another chance ! " cried he to himself. 
 "And better luck this time." 
 
 As well as he could, he then entered upon his 
 pitiable case, and learned that his dejected and 
 irresolute attitude had arrested the attention of 
 * the fair Samaritan, and that on speaking twice, 
 and receiving no response, she had compassion- 
 ately feared that distress or illness must be the 
 cause. 
 
 On finding that all the wants of our stranger 
 were comprised into a direction where to bend 
 his steps, or rather into pity for his having 
 already taken the wrong one, she was about to 
 hurry on, perhaps a thought more hastily than 
 if she had found in the object of her gentle in- 
 quiries an aged, or a sick, or a poor man ; but 
 this could not be borne. 
 
 (" Cheated out of her sympathy," concluded 
 Evelyn. " But not so fast, my kindly lass.
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 19 
 
 This swindling road and I part company once 
 again and forthwith, or I am far mistaken. 
 Here is another, and a more comely, good angel 
 sent to my assistance : where she goes, I go ; 
 and though I may not progress so far as to say, 
 ' Her people shall be my people,' I shall certainly 
 hope to make their speedy acquaintance.") "I 
 — I am not very well," he said, looking at his 
 interlocutor out of the tail of his eye. 
 
 " So I was afraid. Can I do anything for 
 you ? " half turning back. 
 
 "Is there nowhere nearer here than Castle 
 Kenrick, where — where — indeed I very much 
 fear T shall not be able to walk as far ; I scarcely 
 can hope to reach it to-night. If there were 
 any little inn, or farmhouse — any hut, hovel, 
 or shed, where I could be harboured till morn- 
 ing " the wind opportunely blew him back 
 
 as he stood. " Ah ! " cried he, staggering, " I 
 could not stand much of this." 
 
 His companion stood still. 
 
 " You do not know of any ? " proceeded 
 Evelyn, as though she had spoken. " Thanks : 
 never mind, then ; I must do my best. Good 
 evening. Perhaps I may fall in with a shepherd 
 — oh ? — all within doors, you say 1 Well, it
 
 20 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 can't be helped. I wish I were, but it is of no 
 use wishing — what ? I am to come home with 
 
 you ? Oh % That is very kind, but " The 
 
 wind again. Whenever it came in handy, he 
 let it have at him for the nonce, — he was not 
 altogether without guile. 
 
 Charmed as he was to find that his dolorous 
 accents had been thus successful, he was scarcely 
 able to retain them on receiving the answer to 
 his next question as to the distance they must 
 traverse before reaching the proffered shelter. 
 
 '' Five minutes," said the girl, " will take us 
 there." 
 
 " Five minutes ! " cried Evelyn, and added an 
 internal ^^ Hurrah!" which the necessity for 
 keeping up appearances induced him. to suppress 
 all outward sign of ; and it may as well be con- 
 fessed, that so well open did the wily suppliant 
 keep his eyes to future contingencies, that he 
 reflected forthwith whether a slight limp — which 
 should, however, not be suffered to impede their 
 progress — might not be added to his misfortunes, 
 as soon as they were within sight of the door 
 they sought. He was not so absolutely con- 
 vinced of the hospitality of the Scottish people 
 as he had been half an hour before.
 
 A WINDY NIGHT. 21 
 
 " Five minutes r' he exclaimed; then dropping 
 his tone, but not too low, lest it should be in- 
 audible, " Oh, how thankful I am 1" So excel- 
 lently did he simulate the aspect of a spent and 
 toil-worn wretch who is too far gone to take any 
 heed of the nature of the proffered relief, pro- 
 vided it be only easily attainable, that, in answer 
 to his further suggestion that they should set 
 forth at once, his guide immediately obeyed, 
 only pausing to hope that her pace was not too 
 fast for him. 
 
 *' Thank you. I do pretty well." (It would 
 have done him no manner of harm to have had 
 another dozen miles added to what he had al- 
 ready walked.) " Do not slacken speed on my 
 account," continued Evelyn, with indomitable 
 resolution; "as long as I can, I will keep up 
 with you." 
 
 The augry gusts, which continued to bang the 
 two about unmercifully, made him conclude to 
 dispense with any further provocative of compas- 
 sion ; and presently observing how severely the 
 slight fio^ure at his side was buffeted from side 
 to side, he so far forgot himself as to attempt to 
 give her shelter. 
 
 " Look here, keep to the leeward of me," he
 
 22 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 said, good-hum ouredly ; " you can't keep your 
 feet on the ground. Take my arm, and it will 
 be something to hold on by," and suiting the 
 action to the word, he took her hand, not rudely, 
 but still with the freedom of a superior perform- 
 ing a kindly act of condescension. 
 
 Much to his astonishment, however, the hand, 
 which was bare, and felt very small and soft in 
 his grasp, was snatched hastily away, and at the 
 same moment a break in the clouds permitted a 
 stream of light from the moon, which had now 
 arisen, to descend on a face which, had a single 
 minute more been vouchsafed him for observa- 
 tion, he could have sworn was that of a maiden 
 in his own rank of life, and of a very beautiful 
 one.
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 LUXUPvY. 
 
 The storm without might rave and rustle, 
 Tam didna mind the storm a whustle." 
 
 — Tam d Shanter. 
 
 The immediate effect of this revelation on the 
 mind of the supposed invalid was to cause him 
 to lose sight altogether of the character he was 
 playing. 
 
 He pressed forward, straining his eyes to see 
 what sort of an abode might harbour so fair a 
 blossom ; and although, a few minutes before, he 
 would have been only too well pleased with the 
 prospect of such excellent accommodation as 
 met his view, he was now unreasonably discon- 
 certed at the sight of a plainly-built, square, 
 whitewashed farmhouse, perched upon the 
 cliff in the most exposed and unkindly spot 
 that the ingenuity of builder could suggest.
 
 .24 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 A rambling wall, here and there overhung by 
 the bent boughs of a tree, enclosed a small piece 
 of ground on one side, and a deeply-rutted foot- 
 road led through several gates up to the entrance- 
 door on the other ; but as this path — for it was 
 little more — struck away towards the right side 
 of the headland upon which the small domain 
 was situated, whereas Evelyn and his guide had 
 crossed the open fields on the left, they only had 
 the advantage, if advantage it could be called, 
 of pursuing it when within a very short distance 
 of the house. 
 
 The opening and shutting of the last gate, 
 and another temporary gleam of light, which 
 burst from betwixt the dark masses of cloud 
 above, at the precise moment when it was being 
 held back for the lady to pass through, afforded 
 her fellow-traveller another chance look at her 
 face ; but, while mentally anathematising the 
 shade of her hat, which was closely pressed down 
 in order to keep it from being blown away, his 
 observations were further hindered, and finally 
 put to rout altogether, by the vagaries of a long 
 fringed and perversely-minded shawl, which, 
 flying up in front by fits and starts, presently 
 obscured every feature.
 
 LUXURY. 25 
 
 So much as he could glean, however, was 
 enough to tantalise. They now gained the door, 
 and for a few minutes the stranger was enjoined 
 to remain where he was; but he had scarcely 
 had time to decide whether it might be neces- 
 sary to take up again the hypocritical rdle he had 
 at first assumed, or whether he had not already 
 cast it off too entirely to admit of its resumption, 
 before he found himself face to face with a stout, 
 elderly yeoman, who, in the heartiest of tones 
 and broadest of accents, was bidding him enter. 
 
 " I am afraid I am come under false pre- 
 tences," he then tried to say, instantly deciding 
 to take his cheery host into confidence, and have 
 a laugh at the whole aff"air ; but he was per- 
 mitted to get no further. 
 
 It was immaterial on what pretences he came. 
 He was there, and that was enough ; he could 
 not be too often assured that he was welcome. 
 Whenever he would have spoken he was cut 
 short : the sturdy farmer would hear neither 
 apology nor explanation ; and only when both 
 ceased to be off'ered, consented to permit any one 
 but himself to put in a word. 
 
 His daughter — for such Evelyn concluded his 
 late guide to be — did not reappear ; but en am-
 
 26 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 oured as our hero ought certainly to have been 
 by all the laws of romance, it must be confessed 
 that he experienced on this account neither 
 anxiety nor uneasiness, being content to wait, 
 and to occupy himself, as soon as the assiduities 
 of his new friend would permit, in unreeling the 
 line of his fishing-rod and emptying his basket. 
 Pretty faces he could see by the score any day 
 he chose, but to his ears no sound had ever 
 seemed more musical than Farmer Comline's. 
 '' Come ben the hoose, sir, and mak' yersel' at 
 hame. I'm prood to do ye a service, and fain 
 to hae the pleesure o' your company.'' 
 
 He was now housed for the night ; and shame 
 to tell, that w^as the thought which w^as upper- 
 most in the young man's mind. 
 
 To the courteous invitation he made a spirited 
 and suitable rejoinder, and looking around him 
 with the utmost good-humour, mentally con- 
 trasted the ample and comfortable apartment 
 which now met his view, with the dark and 
 odorous hovel into which he had at first stum- 
 bled. That recollection was now only a source 
 of delight, and the castle in the air it had so 
 ruthlessly destroyed was returned, an actual and 
 solid structure, on his hands.
 
 LUXURY. 27 
 
 He could not conceal his pleasure. 
 
 The spacious .best room at the Muirland Farm 
 was neither parlour nor kitchen, but partook of 
 the best attributes of both. It was a room to 
 be used, sat in, smoked in : up the huge chim- 
 ney, if the night were chill and raw, flicker- 
 in 2^ blue wreaths that had no thin oj to do with 
 the fire below would find their way. But the 
 polished floor, only partially carpeted, and the 
 thick close shutters which made curtains unne- 
 cessary, told no tales : all was as sweet, fresh, and 
 wholesome as the most fastidious could desire. 
 
 Within the massive fireplace logs of oak and 
 fir arched upwards against each other, emitting 
 a broad blaze which spread to the furthest cor- 
 ners of the room ; and although it might have 
 seemed as if such a furnace were hardly needed 
 merely to warm, in Evelyn's eyes it would have 
 been ill replaced by the flicker of a smaller fire. 
 
 Nor would he have exchanged the ancient, curi- 
 ously-fashioned arm-chairs, tall timepiece, and 
 square centre-table, for more genteel furniture. 
 
 All was in keeping. 
 
 The fury of the blast without, joined now to 
 the rattle of the rain upon the window-panes 
 as a passing shower flew overhead, sounded
 
 28 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 delightfully in his ears ; his eye kindled with 
 animation ; and as lie took off his cap and 
 stepped forward into the light, with his hair 
 straying over his brow, and the colour in his 
 cheek, a finer, bolder, handsomer young gallant 
 had seldom been seen north of the Tweed. So 
 at least thought Comline's buxom dame, who, 
 by no means insensible to the pleasure of enter- 
 taining such a visitor, and — a great point with 
 housewives — of being taken at a lucky moment, 
 being found at her best by him, without fore- 
 knowledge or preparation on her part, was no 
 whit behind her husband in hospitality. 
 
 " You'll be wet, sir, and weary. This is an ill 
 nicht to be owerta'en on the muir. We're prood 
 to see you, sir, I'm sure. And though this is 
 no' Castle Kenrick, yet it's on the property. 
 Castle Kenrick is but nine miles off. The wrang 
 turn you took was aiblins six miles frae here ; 1 
 ken the turn weel — there's nae sign nor naethin' 
 to guide folks by " 
 
 '' He suld hae tried the ' airt o' the clicky,' " 
 interposed her husband ; " that wad ha been the 
 way — eh, gudewife ? " 
 
 " ' The airt o' the clicky ? ' " said Evelyn, who, 
 although sufficiently accustomed to the broad
 
 LUXURY. 29 
 
 dialect of the Scottish Lowlanders to enable 
 him to follow what was said, though he might 
 not catch the meaning of every word, yet was 
 but imperfectly acquainted with their customs 
 and maxims. " The ' airt o' the clicky ' ? what 
 is that 1 '' 
 
 It was explained to him that the so-called 
 " airt " consists in the bewildered traveller's 
 poising his staff or crook perpendicularly in the 
 air over the road which perplexes him, and then 
 leaving it to itself. Whichever direction the 
 stick falls in, that he is bound to pursue. 
 
 *' And by doing yon/' maintained the gudeman, 
 with a defiant look at his tittering spouse, *^ ye 
 wad hae been at Castle Kenrick twa hoors syne, 
 — ay, an' mair." 
 
 "Weel, weel," quoth Mrs Comline, begging 
 the impending question, " that's as it may be. 
 Castle Kenrick, or no Castle Kenrick, we'll do 
 our best ; and as I was sayin', sir, we're on the 
 property. The laird was here himsel' only a 
 few days syne. Sittin' in yon chair for his 
 crack and his joke. He never passes by wi'oot 
 looking: in, an it be but for his tumbler of new 
 milk. When I see him coming, I run for the 
 milk ; and whiles he says, ' Mistress, I cam' oot
 
 30 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 o' my way a gude lang roond just to get my 
 milk/ Puir thing ! Trampin' the heather a day 
 lang, nae wonder he's drouthy. But" — with 
 sudden recollection — "here I stand, talk, talk, 
 and you just weary in' for your supper, and wet 
 through, forbye. Come up the stair, sir, up this 
 way, and Eobin will fetch you a change." 
 
 Bending her back to the steep staircase, the 
 kind-hearted old woman led the way, only 
 pausing when the top was reached, to recover 
 breath, and renew her strain of benevolent 
 concern and welcome. 
 
 " An' you'll kindly tak' things as they are, 
 sir, and excuse they're no' being just so nice as 
 they micht have been. No' that ye need fear 
 cauld nor rheumatics — hoots, the young can 
 tak' cauld, an' the auld has rheumatics I but 
 naebody need be frichtet for either at the Muir- 
 land Farm. The beds are aye aired. An' 
 though I'm alane the nicht, for we're changin' 
 oor servant-lass, yet a'thing's straicht, ye see," 
 throwing open the door of a good-sized sleeping- 
 apartment, which needed certainly no apology 
 either as regarded order or cleanliness. ^ 
 
 Evelyn, overjoyed, expressed his gratitude. 
 
 "The fire's the ae thing," replied the good 
 
 •r'
 
 LUXURY. 31 
 
 woman, regretfully. *^ It'll tak' time to burn up 
 in sic a wind ; an' 'deed, I misdoot its burnin' 
 weel at a'. But we'll do oor best; an' your 
 room will be daikert by the time it's wanted : 
 an' here's Kobin, sae I'll run." 
 
 Presently, however, she was at the door 
 again, laden with water, soap, and towels ; also 
 with further explanations. Had her daughter 
 been at home the guest would have been better 
 attended to. 
 
 The guest listened attentively. 
 
 '* Lizzie," continued the old woman, garru- 
 lously, " has ta'en the road this afternoon, gaen 
 after a lass, for we can ill get on wantin' ane ; 
 but she'll be back the morn." 
 
 " The morn — that's to-morrow ? Was it not 
 
 she, then 1 " He paused ; suddenly he felt 
 
 a conviction that it could not have been she. 
 What if, after all, he were to be right in that 
 strange fancy w^hich had seemed during the past 
 half-hour to be so utterly refuted that he had 
 quite lost sight of it ? But he would not seem 
 to pry ; so he waited for more, without finishing 
 what he had begun. 
 
 ''Ay, she'll be back the morn, gif naethin' 
 hinders her," continued Mrs Comline ; " and sae
 
 32 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 we're just oorsers the nicht, the gudeman and 
 
 me, and Missy " 
 
 " '^ Missy '? '' said Evelyn, absently. 
 
 ''Ay, Missy that brocht ye in — that fund ye 
 by the roadside. She's — she's just a bit strynger 
 young leddy that's stopping wi' us the noo — 
 stopping wi' my dochter. Lizzie is their gov- 
 erness — governess to her wee sisters ; but I'm 
 deaving you wi' my havers — I'll run " 
 
 " No, no ; pray don't. Hum — ah — what were 
 you saying ? " 
 
 "Oo, naethin', sir — naethin'. It's just my 
 tongue, that whiles rins awa' frae me. An' sae 
 if ye want nae mair, I'll leave ye. An' ye'll fin' 
 your ain way doun ; an' we'll be blythe to see 
 you when ye're ready for your supper." 
 
 Too certain of his good-looks to disturb him- 
 self materially about the cut of any apparel that 
 it might suit him for the nonce to don, Evelyn 
 speedily, and with fresh anticipatory sensations, 
 laid aside his own shooting-clothes, and put on 
 the Sunday suit of Mr Comline. Perhaps it 
 was as well, however, that the diminutive look- 
 ing-glass, from its position on the wall, did not 
 offer a reflection beneath the head and shoul- 
 ders, — since the sight of his handsome figure,
 
 LUXURY. 33 
 
 entirely disguised as it was by the loose and 
 shapeless garments, might have upset even his 
 equanimity. 
 
 But when a man has all his life long been 
 accustomed to looking well, he is not apt to be 
 troubled with misgivings. He need not be 
 vain — probably he is not vain ; while conscious 
 of superiority, he is almost indifferent to it ; it 
 is merely that he has never known any but a 
 good tailor, and that such ignorance is bliss 
 indeed. 
 
 Evelyn was an only child, whose father had 
 died while he was yet an iufant, and whose 
 mother, a feeble-minded woman of fashion, had 
 done her best to pamper and ruin. 
 
 How he had escaped such a fate, no one knew. 
 
 The whole gauntlet of toadies, tutors, and 
 dependants he had run from his birth upwards, 
 and in spite of all, at twenty-one years of age 
 he stood forth to the world a fine, open-hearted, 
 good-humoured young gentleman, with the rep- 
 utation of never having been known to say 
 an ill - natured word, nor do an ungenerous 
 action. 
 
 In due time a commissiou in the Household 
 Brigade was procured for him, and he had held 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 this about eight years at the time our story 
 commences ; — hunting in winter, the London 
 season in spring and summer, sports and pas- 
 times of all sorts in the autumn, filling up his 
 years, and enabling him to pass them agreeably, 
 — whether profitably or not, he did not inquire. 
 
 Nearly every August found him in Scotland, 
 either for the salmon-fishing or the grousing ; 
 but the particular year which brings him under 
 our notice, lost and helpless on the Galloway 
 coast, and afterwards succoured by a mysterious 
 princess in disguise — he is hoping all this time 
 that she may prove to be nothing less, — it was 
 neither the inducements of the moor nor the 
 loch which had called him northwards. 
 
 He was bound on another errand; and it was 
 so far important, that he had set about it at the 
 very beginning of his four months' leave, not 
 having considered what he should do with the 
 remainder of his time. 
 
 True, he loitered by the way like a schoolboy, 
 and he saw Carnochan House, which was his 
 ultimate destination, very much in the light of 
 the master's roof where he would be imme- 
 diately placed under supervision and restraint ; 
 but still he meant to get there some day.
 
 LUXURY. 35 
 
 Now and then, to be sure, he turned aside a 
 little bit. Eibston's place was here, and Fair- 
 light's place w^as there ; he knew people all up 
 and down the country, and how could he pass 
 them by ? 
 
 He had shot grouse in Yorkshire, hunted the 
 otter in Cumberland, swept the Tweed, and had 
 a cast over every river and stream that lay to 
 right or to left, ere he entered the Stewartry of 
 Kirkcudbright. Hang it all ! There was no 
 hurry. Singing and dancing as beseemed a 
 jolly young Guardsman whom everybody loved, 
 he was a welcome guest at every house he 
 entered : no woman found him remiss, no man 
 feared him as a rival. 
 
 They said he w^as not serious enough ; that he 
 had so many pleasures, he could not confine 
 himself to one ; and that consequently his love- 
 making suffered. It might have been that ; or 
 it might have been — shades of chivalry, shut 
 your ears ! — that he found it too easy to conquer, 
 and needed all his armour to defend himself. 
 He did not wish to marry, and he had to take 
 care lest he was married without his will. It 
 was all very well for the others, but this favour- 
 ite of fortune was really at times hard put to it.
 
 36 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He was so engaging and so sprightly, so kind- 
 hearted and pleasant and rich and respectable, 
 that he was a perfect Phoenix of a young 
 bachelor; and as to his not being serious, he 
 no more dared trust himself to be serious than 
 to drink hemlock : half an hour's seriousness 
 would have done for him for life. As to mak- 
 ing embroilments for the sake of gratifying his 
 own vanity at the expense of others, Evelyn 
 was the last man to have been guilty of such 
 behaviour. He had his good points. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that no man was more 
 popular, and that the only wonder was how he 
 ever reached Galloway at all. He was now, if 
 not absolutely within hail of Carnochan, in the 
 next county to it ; and finding himself so near 
 to his old friend Brewster, and never having 
 been at Castle Kenrick before — if he had, he 
 probably would not have been so ready to go 
 back again — he considered he could not well 
 pass by. 
 
 The same easy temper permitted him to be 
 perfectly quiescent, under the consciousness that 
 he would be missed and lamented over, on the 
 night in question, by the party assembled at the 
 Castle. He would not have given real honest pain
 
 LUXURY. 37 
 
 to a child, but he could inflict all the distress that 
 his absence was likely to occasion, without re- 
 morse ; and all the probability that he was the 
 subject of speculation and sighs among the 
 fashionable folks nine miles off, did not prevent 
 his stepping down -stairs briskly and inquisi- 
 tively as soon as he had made his toilet in the 
 spare room at the Muirland Farm. 
 
 No alloy entered into the pleasure of the 
 moment when he lifted the latch and beheld 
 the quaint old parlour blazing with light, a 
 plentiful supper spread upon a snowy cloth on 
 the centre table, covered dishes nestling in each 
 corner of the huge fireplace, and his host and 
 hostess busily engaged with the kettle and the 
 teapot. 
 
 Savoury whifl*s which assailed his nostrils on 
 coming forward, by no means detracted from 
 the charms of the scene in the opinion of a 
 hungry man. 
 
 One of the large roomy chairs had been drawn 
 up to the snuggest side of the table for him, and 
 as he took his seat and reclined at ease on the 
 faded chintz, resting his arms upon its high 
 cushioned sides, no lounge, sofa, nor settee had 
 ever seemed so luxurious.
 
 38 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He had enjoyed his repose for a few moments 
 only, when a door — one of several in different 
 parts of the room — opened somewhere behind 
 him, and the eyes of both the farmer and his 
 wife, who were also seated, being turned towards 
 the quarter whence the sounds proceeded, he 
 experienced a sensation which was altogether 
 novel to him. 
 
 His heart beat. 
 
 Perhaps it had never done so in his life 
 before.
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 
 
 " 111 questions generate worse answers." — Feltham. 
 
 One tiling was certain, his curiosity had not 
 been undeservedly excited. 
 
 There was a suppressed stir of preparation, a 
 half rising up and sitting down again, a looking 
 at him, and then over his head, and then at 
 each other, which betokened that both the old 
 man and his wife were experiencing the feeling 
 that a critical moment had arrived. 
 
 Their innate good manners carried them 
 through it; but a certain nervous haste and 
 consciousness, an appearance of anxiety, almost 
 of deprecation, was visible : they were not at 
 their ease — homely and chatty, as they had been 
 before. 
 
 " Come, Missy, here's your chair ready,'' said
 
 40 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the farmer, rising, and holding his own back, 
 with an air that would have seemed more defer- 
 ential than was necessary towards so young an 
 inmate of his house, and his daughter's friend, 
 had the face and figure that now met Evelyn's 
 eye not borne out his former impression of his 
 guide, — "an' muckle obleeged to you we are 
 for bringing us sic gude company on sic an ill 
 nicht. But, my young leddy " — with a kindly 
 pat on her shoulder as she passed — " it was nae 
 hoor for the likes o' you to be daunnering aboot 
 the countryside. I was near aboot setting aff 
 to speer after ye mysel', when it set in sae 
 thick. Ye wad ha' been hame afore an ye 
 could, I'se warrant ; but we munna let ye gang 
 yer lane again to sic a distance, Lizzie or no 
 Lizzie. Hoots ! Lizzie can look after hersel' 
 wi'oot fashin' her freends. She's no ane o' your 
 dainty gentry folk. But we're a' the same — a' 
 the same," he added, with an apologetic laugh 
 to the stranger. "No ane o' us. Captain" — 
 for Evelyn had now told his name and rank — 
 "no ane o' us, no even Missy here, but mun 
 mak' a fair idol o' that bit lassie o' oors. She's 
 awa' for the nicht, d'ye see — only for ae nicht, 
 mind — and here's this leddy freend o' hers mun
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 41 
 
 see her to the coach hersel', and come a' the 
 way hame her lane. Na, na, Missy, that munna 
 be. A fair fricht ye gied us, baith the gudewife 
 and me, an* we mun see tilFt anither time that 
 ye're safe under bield again' e'en." 
 
 Evelyn had hastened to rise and look con- 
 cerned in the bustle which the new arrival had 
 created ; and he now, with the fluency of a man 
 of the world, expressed anew his sense of the 
 obligation under which he lay, and at the same 
 time observing, what had before escaped him, 
 the extreme youth as well as beauty of his 
 deliverer, he ventured to add his approval of 
 the prudent edict issued by his host. 
 
 All this was very well, but what did not so 
 entirely please the worthy farmer was the open 
 and undisguised admiration conveyed in the 
 look by which the words were accompanied. 
 
 There is no mistaking the ardour of manly 
 homage when it is given free scope and a clear 
 coast ; and with all respect for the goodwill of 
 his kind entertainers, it certainly did not enter 
 Evelyn's head to find in their presence any sort 
 of check. 
 
 He directed his attention, it is true, to all — 
 in so far as he could be permitted to do so with-
 
 42 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 out interfering with their own notions of polite- 
 ness ; but he threw into his manner a glow, a 
 warmth, an alacrity of motion, when the service 
 to be rendered was for his fair contemporary, 
 that could have no other interpretation than 
 that he was deeply impressed, and was at no 
 pains to conceal it. 
 
 All that was done or said failed, however, to 
 bring forth response. 
 
 Few words and no smiles could be drawn 
 from the severe young face opposite ; and so 
 rigidly were the eyes kept for other objects than 
 the guest, and so obstinately to all appearance 
 were the ears closed against his ingratiating 
 overtures, that he was piqued more than amused 
 by his want of success. 
 
 He began to find out, what hitherto he had 
 not had a chance of discovering, that he did 
 not like it. He was not used to deaf ears and 
 dumb eyes. 
 
 " By Jove, though, they are eyes, when you 
 get a sight of them ! " said he to himself. " And 
 she has as prettily-shaped a little head and neck 
 as any I have seen this long while back. A dark- 
 haired, dark -browed belle, — the kind, of all 
 others, I admire. Who can she be ? And what
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 43 
 
 can she be doing here 1 I'll lay something there 
 is a mystery somewhere, and I am not meant 
 to find it out. She can't be mad : that sort of 
 thing isn't done now, and she would not be 
 allowed to go about by herself if she were. 
 She's somebody placed here for some purpose ; 
 and she has a curious, uncomfortable look, that 
 tells me she does not above half like the situa- 
 tion. Now if she would only cheer up, and 
 make friends, why, I should find out all about 
 it in no time. Why won't she '? I have done 
 her no harm, though I did draw on my imagina- 
 tion slightly when I was compelled to elicit her 
 pity for my misfortunes — they were bad enough, 
 I'm sure, to warrant any additions I liked to give 
 'em, — but she might forgive a poor half-drowned 
 waif for a little extra make-believe, if that's all. 
 I should be quite charming to her now, if she 
 would only show me grace ; but she looks so 
 deuced repellent, that, upon my w^ord, I haven't 
 pluck for the attack." 
 
 Want of courage did not, how^ever, prevent 
 his making another effort when, supper over, 
 the worthy dame bustled about, taking away 
 the dishes into the outer kitchen, where all the 
 scullery work and cookery were done ; and her
 
 44 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 husband, no less eager to atone for and supple- 
 ment the absence of his daughter and maid, 
 seized brush and shovel, swept up the hearth, 
 and piled fresh wood on the fire. 
 
 Evelyn and the young lady were left, as it 
 were, in the lurch. 
 
 " Let us set the chairs," said he, " since Mrs 
 Comline will not allow any one to help her with 
 her tray. I am a great hand at washing-up 
 dishes, if she would only believe it, but she 
 won't ; so I will lift the chairs, if you will tell 
 me where they ought each to go." 
 
 How it came to pass that after this he con- 
 trived to settle the slender sphinx in a corner 
 whence she could not escape without derangiug 
 the whole circle, and then to draw his own arm- 
 chair to her side, was inexplicable. No direc- 
 tions to that effect had been issued ; and, well 
 aware of the fact, it was with an inward chuckle 
 over the clever misapprehension which had 
 wrought so happy an arrangement, that he 
 began to better his acquaintance as speedily 
 as might be : but he had yet to learn what 
 stuff this softly -nurtured and well-favoured 
 young damsel was made of. She did not, it 
 is true, offer any resistance to his courtesies,
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 45 
 
 nor refuse to occupy the seat he chose for her, — 
 but he found that whether near or far, by her 
 side or with the supper-table between, it made 
 no difference in his obtaining any portion of her 
 favour. 
 
 On the whole, he was only half-displeased : 
 he was no longer tired and famishing ; the room 
 was warm and pleasant, the huge chairs yielded 
 a delicious sense of luxury, the storm roared 
 without, and the fire burned up brightly within, 
 — he would not let himself be put out by the 
 frowns of an unkind maiden. 
 
 Evelyn had given his name, as we said, and 
 he had fancied for a few minutes afterwards 
 that an increase of cordiality — something which 
 was meant to mark still more emphatically than 
 before the sense his excellent hosts had of enter- 
 taining an honoured guest — had followed its an- 
 nouncement. The two had certainly looked at 
 each other, and had, at one and the same time, 
 ejaculated " Captain Evelyn I " as though the 
 words were familiar and surprising ; and from 
 both glance and accent he had expected an 
 immediate explanation. 
 
 No more, however, had been said ; and since 
 he was not so much as once asked where he
 
 46 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 came from, or where he was bound for, he con- 
 cluded that his fancying recognition and aston- 
 ishment in their united tone was a mistake. 
 
 He wondered whether or no his credentials 
 had been presented to their silent charge '? She 
 gave no indications of their having been so ; 
 and they certainly were not disposed to favour 
 him with hers. He thought he would try what 
 he could do for himself. 
 
 " Do you know this part of the country 
 well ? " he inquired, at the same time bending 
 forward to replace a burnt stick which was 
 tottering from its place. 
 
 In order to thrust it within the bars again, he 
 had to stretch across the chair to his right, and 
 as he did so he turned his eyes upwards. He 
 could not be mistaken this time. The face 
 which was thus at his mercy was suffused with 
 crimson ; and so obvious was it that he had put 
 a question more than ordinarily embarrassing, 
 that he was almost guilty of showing his con- 
 sciousness of having done so by some foolish 
 amendment on the observation, when he was 
 saved by the hasty interposition of Mr Comline, 
 who, having settled all to his satisfaction, had 
 sat down, with a sigh expressive of deep con-
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 47 
 
 tent, in his own easy-chair on the other side of 
 the chimney-piece. 
 
 " No' that weel, Captain Evelyn," he said ; 
 " she kens it no' that weel for her to be trusted 
 her lane upon the road i' the gloamin' anither 
 day ; an' no' that weel that we wad hae her fore- 
 gather wi' ilka strynger she finds by the dyke- 
 side. Ha, ha, ha ! I doot ye played upon her 
 credulity, Captain — I doot ye did; an' richt 
 glad I am ye did, tae," he added, fearful of hurt- 
 ing the sensibility of his guest, *' baith glad and 
 prood. For a' that, though, ye munna think, 
 
 ye munna gang and tell her leddyship " 
 
 He stopped short, and stared over the top of 
 his spectacles. Mrs Comline was behind Evelyn : 
 was it possible that she had had anything to do 
 with that sudden halt ? Had she put on the 
 brake which had pulled up the gudeman so 
 smartly ? 
 
 " Hey — hum — ha," continued he, after a 
 minute. " Hum, — ay ; that's to say — wife, 
 whaur's the mull 1 What was I sayin' ? You 
 see. Captain Evelyn, when I'm a wee thing 
 slumbrous after the day's done, I get to non- 
 sense-talkin' at times — no kennin' just what I'm 
 sayin', dinna ye see ? An' sae I beg your
 
 48 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 pardon, sir, if Tm stupid-like; ye'll tak' nae 
 heed ; Tm no jist responsible for a' that comes 
 frae me." 
 
 But if not responsible, it was odd that the 
 worthy speaker should have been so exceedingly 
 disconcerted. Such a suddeu break-off in his 
 harangue, and such profuse explanations, could 
 only mean one thing — a blunder; and that a 
 blunder, a slip of some kind, had been made 
 and tried to be corrected, was patent to any- 
 body. 
 
 " Her leddyship,'' said Evelyn to himself. 
 " Soho ! " 
 
 He knew better than to press his advantage : 
 he fell back at once, and in the easiest manner 
 possible, upon his own interests ; and, after re- 
 lating with spirit divers adventures in which 
 he had lately been engaged, and giving some 
 account of the different proprietors, and their 
 reputation as landlords, who were now staying 
 at Castle Kenrick, greatly to the edification of 
 Mr Comline, who was inquisitive on this latter 
 point, he proceeded to inform them all of the 
 ultimate object of his journey into Galloway. 
 
 Suddenly he became aware that two large, 
 dark, penetrating eyes, in which he could almost
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 49 
 
 have sworn tears were shining, were fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 He had touched the right spring at last. 
 
 **Ah/' thought he, "that's it, is if? Not 
 happy at home "? Very good, my black domino : 
 since it pleases you to be interested in my con- 
 versation at this point, and since you have not 
 cared two straws for anything I have said 
 hitherto, we'll have a little more of the same, 
 if you like." 
 
 But although he harped away valoi:'ously and 
 ingeniously, nothing further was seen of the wet 
 orbs. They were kept for the fire or the floor ; 
 and at the close of the evening, he could only 
 reflect that he had never before worked so hard 
 and achieved so little. The recollection gave 
 him a good hearty laugh at himself afterwards. 
 
 At the time, however, a few degrees of chagrin 
 just prevented his mental barometer from keep- 
 ing steady to the mark of fine weather, at which 
 it might otherwise have stood. He enjoyed his 
 eveniug, but he would have liked to have made 
 more of it. It was all so jolly, if she, this girl, 
 would have been jolly too. If she would have 
 taken up his friendly tone, and put in her word, 
 and laughed at his jests, — instead of sitting by 
 
 VOL. T. D
 
 50 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 with a cold — no, it was hardly a cold face, but 
 a solemn, silent one. " Unapproachable, forbid- 
 ding," were the epithets that he felt suited the 
 best ; and had it not been that the word sound- 
 ed harsh, as applied to one so young, he would 
 have added '' ill-natured/' " It was certainly a 
 pity that people should be ill-natured," reflected 
 the young man, " more particularly when they 
 were the only people at hand." He had felt so 
 happy and comfortable, so pleasantly tired, and 
 so agreeably situated, that he had been stimu- 
 lated to do his very best ; and he could not but 
 feel it a little, a very little, mortifying that no 
 impression whatever had been made upon the 
 person for whose good opinion he was chiefly 
 solicitous. 
 
 Candles were lit, and he was shown to his 
 room without his even obtaining a *' good night," 
 — since, while assisting his hostess in performing 
 the first operation, he heard the mysterious door 
 at his back open and shut again ; and though he 
 looked round immediately, guessing what had 
 happened, he was too late. 
 
 " What a peculiar door ? " he observed, go- 
 ing up to it, as though to examine the work- 
 manship. "A fine solid piece of wood this,
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 51 
 
 farmer. Are there aDy more private staircases 
 to this room ? " glancing round, with a laugh. 
 "It is really * no canny/ as you say in Scot- 
 land, when people glide in and out like appa- 
 ritions." 
 
 " Oo, there's nae appareetion aboot it, Cap- 
 tain. It's jist a bit wing that was built on to 
 the hoose to mak' it sizable i' my fayther's 
 time. He had the Muirland Farm afore me, 
 and, honest man, he had fowerteen bairns — 
 mair than the baker's dizzen, yon. Sae there's 
 twa rooms up the stair, and twa below — they're 
 entered frae the ootside, thae ithers ; and Missy 
 and oor dochter has the upper twa." 
 
 "Miss — ah — I don't know your visitor's 
 name ; but she must hear the wind a good deal 
 at that end of the house 1 " The pause follow- 
 ing his confession of ignorance, which he had 
 thought almost must produce an answer, was 
 unnoticed. 
 
 " Maybe she does," said Mr Comline, drily ; 
 " but she kens she's wi'in fower gude walls, and 
 the wund comes na near her pillow. The water 
 frae the waves, when the incoming tide is 
 Strang, whiles strikes on her window - panes, 
 though. Captain; and maybe ye'll hear it on 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 I ioDADV.
 
 52 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 yer ain. An it disturbs your rest, yell ken 
 what it is ; but after a gude day up the glen, 
 it's no' like to do sae. It's no' that bad neither ; 
 it's jist like a thud o' rain, or a handfu' o' 
 peebles, or the like. We that's used to it thinks 
 naethin' o' it ; but I wad be loth it should keep 
 you frae your sleep." 
 
 " No fears : but how do we not hear it in this 
 room ? " 
 
 " No' hear it ! We micht hae heard it a 
 while ago but for the clatter o' oor ain toDgues. 
 The tide's gaen oot noo — it'll no' be in again 'ore 
 mornin' ; but when we were at oor supper it 
 was beatin' up — ay, ay, / heard it, but I ne'er 
 gied it a thocht." 
 
 ''Don't you come with me, Mrs Comline ; go 
 to your other visitor." She was preparing to 
 lead the way to Evelyn's room. 
 
 *' Missy's nae visitor, Captain," rather shortly. 
 
 '' Well, but you are not to make a visitor of 
 me, either." 
 
 "No visitor," continued the young man to 
 himself; " then what the deuce is she ? Neither 
 fish, flesh, nor fowl, according to the old people. 
 She is not allowed so much as to put a bit of 
 wood on the fire, she is waited on as though
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 53 
 
 she were a duchess, and yet she is * no visitor ' ! 
 I never was more puzzled — and small blame to 
 me, either. After three or four hours spent in 
 ceaseless endeavours, one^s faculties become ex- 
 hausted. T don't remember that I ever bestirred 
 myself so much. I forgot, and remembered, 
 and was absent, and attentive, and everything 
 else that I could think of by turns, — and got 
 nothing for my pains ! Close, close as a nail, 
 these Scotch people. That one slip of the old 
 fellow's, that ' her leddyship,' was a piece of 
 luck, and the only one that I had. Well, now 
 to bed, and for sleeping the good round, or as 
 near it as is consistent with the ideas of my 
 primitive friends here. In the morning I shall 
 rise a giant refreshed, and renew the campaign." 
 
 Neither the pangs of curiosity, nor the howl- 
 ing of the tempest, interfered to prevent the 
 fulfilment of the first of the above - named 
 anticipations. 
 
 The sun was indeed so high in the heavens 
 before Evelyn descended to the sitting-room 
 next day, that, although he would probably 
 have been reckoned an early riser among the gay 
 people at Castle Kenrick, he found himself on 
 the present occasion obliged to breakfast alone.
 
 54 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 In the greeting which awaited him, and the 
 earnest inquiries after the comfort of his room, 
 the quality of his sleep, and the number of his 
 blankets, nothing but hearty approbation, how- 
 ever, was manifested at his having done to all 
 such ample justice. 
 
 Everything that he could desire was spread 
 before him ; not hept hot — abomination of 
 abominations — but fresh, steaming, appetising. 
 
 That he had not been expected to join the 
 earlier repast was evident, and he thought he 
 could perceive that his not having done so had* 
 mven his hostess satisfaction. She alone re- 
 ceived him. The farmer had gone out, leaving 
 suitable excuses. He had been obliged to be- 
 take himself to the nearest village in all haste 
 to find a man who could repair a shepherd's 
 '^bught,'' which had been blown down in the 
 night, of which disaster tidings had been brought 
 in some hours before. 
 
 The young lady was also invisible ; but of 
 her nothing was said. 
 
 (" What a fool I have been to lose this chance!" 
 reflected the laggard, who, like most other 
 people, marvelled, when once wide-awake, what 
 inducement he could have had to sleep so long.
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 55 
 
 *' I ought to have been down," thought he, 
 "two hours ago. They have boxed her up safe 
 and sound again ; but since ' catch me if you 
 can ^ is a game that two can play at, I must 
 show my agility, now that I have entered the 
 lists/') Aloud — "Thank you, Mrs Comline. 
 Yes, I think I must surely have got everything. 
 I shall certainly know where to look for a true 
 specimen of a Scotch breakfast another time. 
 Oh, more scones ! I thought I had finished, 
 but you tempt me till I declare I can't resist. 
 Are you making these yourself, may I ask, or is 
 — ah — any one giving you assistance in the 
 next room '? '' 
 
 " I need nae assistance, sir," somewhat drily. 
 
 " But your daughter was to return to-day. 
 Is she not come yet \ " 
 
 " No' 'fore nicht, Captain. Lizzie has twenty 
 miles to travel, and shell no' start early neither. 
 Na, na, ye munna expeck to see her the day ; 
 but nae doot anither time we'll be fain and 
 hearty to see you ; and should it be your plees- 
 
 ure to bide a day or twa, or mair but what 
 
 am I sayin' ? It's no' likely, when Castle Ken- 
 rick is ower by, that ye wad care to stop at the 
 Muirland Farm ! " with a lauefh at her own
 
 56 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 simplicity. '' Aweel, sir, an ye be for the hills 
 again, ye'll hae somethin' wi' you : Til run for 
 a bit paper " 
 
 She was off, leaving in her haste the door 
 slightly ajar ; and whilst Evelyn was ruminat- 
 ing with some ruefulness on the ease with which 
 his neatest and most diplomatic sallies were set 
 aside, and was inwardly mooting the point as 
 to whether he should not now give up the Con- 
 test, and take himself oflf handsomely, or whether 
 he should, at the last moment, formally request 
 to take farewell of, and express his gratitude to, 
 his earliest acquaintance, he was startled by 
 hearing, just outside the door, the unmistakable 
 imperative whisper of a person who is only too 
 resolute not to be overheard. 
 
 "Miss Kate, Miss Kate, ye mun gang ben, 
 an it be but for a ' Hoo are ye ? ' and awa. It's 
 no' mannerly, my dear, to gie him nae word at 
 pairtin', you that brocht him in yersel'. Dinna 
 bide in the room, an ye likena, but just gang in 
 till him wi' your hat and coat on — as ye are — 
 and say your say, and hae it ower. Hoot, fye ! 
 He kens nae thin'.'' 
 
 Evelyn heard, confounded. 
 
 The instinct of a gentleman prompted him
 
 CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS. 57 
 
 to rise and shut the door ; and, in spite of his 
 desire to hear more, he had akeady got off his 
 chair to do so, when the nearness of the voice 
 outside made him fear to be caught, however 
 innocently, in the position of an eavesdropper. 
 
 Hastily resuming his seat, therefore, he buried 
 his face in his empty teacup. 
 
 No one appeared after all ; and the clattering 
 of pans and pails in the entry, together with 
 the rustling of paper, which had also preceded 
 the above, recommenced with renewed energy. 
 A pause succeeded next, and subsequently the 
 shutting of a door — probably that of the closet 
 in which his hostess had been rummaging — and 
 he now concluded that she was about to return 
 and provide for his future necessities ; but whe- 
 ther alone or not, he could not determine, since 
 he had caught no answer to the energetic ad- 
 monition above recorded. 
 
 He looked at the door eagerly. 
 
 It still stood open, very slightly open — so 
 slightly that the narrow chink might pass un- 
 observed, and evidently had so far done so ; 
 but though he could hear that some one was 
 moving about on the outside, he was left to 
 himself for full three minutes longer.
 
 58 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 A happy thought. Else, and go boldly out. 
 Catch this Miss Kate, if she be still there; if 
 not, no harm done. He jumped to his feet, and 
 — sat down again. 
 
 The whispering had recommenced.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 " Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard. 
 
 ■Othello. 
 
 So close was it now to the door that, were he to 
 show himself to the unlucky women without 
 having had to lift the latch, they must be in- 
 formed by his doing so that he had overheard, 
 if not all their conversation, at least as much of 
 it as made him sensible of the propriety of hear- 
 ing no more. 
 
 With the most honourable intentions, he was 
 in consequence at a stand-still. 
 
 Either to go out, or to remain where he was, 
 was to annoy somebody : and at length, in des- 
 peration, he upset a cup and saucer; and having, 
 he thus hoped, made noise enough to signal his 
 propinquity to those outside, he seized the bread- 
 knife, and held it aloft over what Mrs Comline
 
 60 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 called the " loaf - bread,'' — she always added 
 afterwards, in recording the tale, that the baker 
 had called the day before, and had left some 
 excellent loaf-bread : there he stood, prepared 
 to be caught, and to remind his hostess that she 
 had bidden him supply his luncheon from her 
 well-filled board. 
 
 In this attitude, and with a countenance 
 made up to abstraction from all concerns but 
 his own, he was obliged again to pause — for 
 apparently the stratagem had enlightened no 
 one ; and the following fell distinctly on his 
 ear, — 
 
 " Aweel, my dear, ye mun gang your ain gait ; 
 but that's no' sayin' it's a gude gait, mind you. 
 He thinks it's me and the gudeman that's keepin' 
 him frae ye, — ay, ye should hae heard him last 
 nicht, he was that vexed at us ! And what for 
 should we keep ye, I wad ken ? Keep ye frae 
 yer ain " 
 
 - Sh_sh— sh ! " 
 
 '' Ye'll no' be guided, then ? " in a subdued 
 tone. 
 
 ''I can't.'' 
 
 '' Can't ? But that's fair nonsense, an' beg- 
 gin' your pardon, Missy. Folks can aye do 
 
 ^T>
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 61 
 
 what they suld do ; and that's a lesson ye hae 
 yet to learn, my dear. Noo," coaxingly, "jist 
 gang in wi' me " 
 
 '' No, no ; " and more followed, too low for 
 the words to be audible. From the tone, how- 
 ever, Evelyn divined what must be their ten- 
 dency ; and he would have smiled to himself 
 at the extraordinary timidity which prevented a 
 girl of sixteen or seventeen from interchanging 
 the commonest civilities with one of the other 
 sex, had it not been for the old woman's " He 
 kens naethin'," which seemed to indicate that 
 it was not mere girlish bashfulness alone which 
 had to be overcome. 
 
 He could, however, permit himself to hear no 
 more ; and since the cup and saucer were not 
 sufficiently powerful agents in the cause, neither 
 having been broken, he essayed to kick down 
 a chair with his foot, while at the same time 
 cutting lustily at the loaf. The gymnastic 
 experiment succeeded so far as to produce a 
 '' Holloa ! " so natural, that Mrs Comline ap- 
 peared at once, although the chair retained its 
 position. 
 
 The exclamation had been sufficient. 
 
 It had been caused by an accident which is
 
 62 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 not infrequent in houses where the cutlery is 
 old and worn. The back of the knife which 
 Evelyn held suspended was, from long usage, as 
 thin and sharp as the other edge ; and endea- 
 vouring as he did to execute two manoeuvres at 
 one and the same time, he brought it into sharp 
 collision with his left hand, the consequence 
 being an exceedingly awkward slit on the fleshy 
 part of the thumb. 
 
 Mrs Comline uttered a cry, Evelyn endea- 
 voured to laugh, and the commotion brought 
 into the room, as nothing else would have done, 
 the person upon whom neither the wishes of 
 the one, nor the representations of the other, 
 had wrought any effect. 
 
 Without a word she seized the bleeding hand, 
 and disregarding the matron's entreaties and 
 the young man s protestations, marched him off 
 then and there into the back-kitchen. Here 
 was a tap of cold water, and under it the 
 wounded member was held relentlessly, to the 
 infinite diversion of Evelyn, who, while contin- 
 uing to expostulate, was secretly overjoyed at 
 the turn affairs had taken. He was now alone 
 once more with the mysterious fair, — Mrs Com- 
 line having disappeared in search of that home-
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 63 
 
 liest of remedies, a cobweb, — and it would go 
 hard with him but he would make some use of 
 his opportunity. Her intent expression over 
 the task, and her absorption in it, moreover, 
 could not but be gratifying ; he submitted with 
 more than patience to her orders, called the cut 
 a trifle, but poured forth thanks and praises in 
 the same breath. Presently, when it became evi- 
 dent that the first profuse stream was checked, 
 he was directed to press the sides of the cut 
 together, and to wait while his surgical atten- 
 dant ran to her room for a bandage. 
 
 '' The handkerchief in your pocket," sug- 
 gested Evelyn, looking towards a piece of deli- 
 cate cambric which protruded from the breast- 
 pocket of the rough outer jacket she wore ; "my 
 own I can't offer. But if you will kindly '' 
 
 She drew it out. 
 
 A small piece of pink embroidery in the 
 corner caught his eye. 
 
 " Now all good stars look down ! " implored 
 the artful miscreant, inwardly ; " if she thinks 
 of that, my last device has failed. But no, she 
 doesn't." — (Aloud.) "A little more this way, 
 please; and pass it behind the thumb." ("Con- 
 found the provoking thing, it's staring her full
 
 6 J: TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 in the face ! ") " Pray don't move this end, if you 
 can help doing so ; it's right over the place, and 
 holds it together capitally." (''Aha! it's too 
 late now, my fair blunderer ; so you see what 
 you have done at last, do you ? ") '' A knot, 
 please. There ; that's comfortable." (" And 
 you may whistle for your handkerchief till 
 I have inspected those pink letters in the 
 corner.") " Thank you so very much." 
 
 "Here's the cobweb," cried Mrs Comline, 
 running in, out of breath, with the unsavoury 
 morsel in her hand. " To think that I wad be 
 a' this while, and couldna get a cobweb nae 
 gait. But I kenned ye had the cauld water, 
 for I heard the tap, and there's naethin' like 
 cauld water ; but preserve us a', Miss Kate, ye 
 hanna bunged up the place wi'oot a cobweb, nor 
 naethin' ? Whae's to ken when it micht tak' it 
 in its heed to brak oot again, and no' be sae 
 easy stoppit '? I ha'e been oot to the byre 
 mysel', Captain, for this bonnie cobweb." 
 
 " It was a pity you were not here sooner," 
 said Evelyn, maliciously ; " but the operation 
 was well and skilfully performed, I can assure 
 you. The wound will certainly heal of itself, 
 provided it is not again disturbed."
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 65 
 
 *' Wad I no' tie it up for ye, sir 1 it wad tak' 
 nae harm." 
 
 "By no means," drawing back decidedly. 
 "I could not think of having all this young 
 lady's work undone. Her bandage was the 
 exact thing required, and she has put it on as 
 cleverly as though she had been a professor of 
 surgery. The worst of it is, I shall not be able 
 to hold a rod to-day." 
 
 *' Na, that ye'll no' ; ye mun put up wi' that 
 inconvenance. Captain, an' be thankfu' its nae 
 waur. Ye mun find ither ploys at Castle Ken- 
 rick ; and Missy will reel up the fishing-line may- 
 be ? " turning to her interrogatively. 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 ''An' that's a' ye hae to do, I think 1 " con- 
 tinued the gudewife. 
 
 "Except to bid you 'good-bye,' and that I 
 have still a hand for. I don't know how to 
 thank you enough, Mrs Comline, but I can only 
 say I never met with greater kindness, nor 
 spent a pleasanter evening. You must tell your 
 husband that I hope he will allow me to say so to 
 himself some day, and the next time I am in the 
 
 neighbourhood I — I " he was at a momentary 
 
 loss, — '' I hope I may be allowed to come over." 
 
 VOL. L E
 
 66 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 The lameness of the conclusion was certainly 
 due to the sound of his line being wound up 
 in the outer hall ; but whether anxiety lest the 
 operation should not be properly performed, or 
 whether desire to superintend it himself for any 
 other reason, made him hasten his speech to a 
 close, remains unknown. 
 
 He certainly deserved credit for his perse- 
 verance. 
 
 Here was a pretty creature, not yet out of her 
 teens, to whom he had endeavoured to make 
 himself agreeable, and who might have thought 
 it only her place to have been pleased and re- 
 sponsive, — to have been in waiting to give him 
 his tea in the morning, and ready to conduct 
 him part of his way afterwards. They could 
 then have parted on the best of terms, and have 
 forgotten each other pleasantly. 
 
 But this frowning black-eyed Kate had posi- 
 tively declined her part — had neither answered 
 to his glances, nor vouchsafed more than mono- 
 syllables to his most direct questions. Such 
 grossierete was perfectly idiotic — or would have 
 been, had its perpetrator not had a cheek like a 
 damask rose. 
 
 As it was Hum ! As it was, in spite of
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 67 
 
 her inhumanity, and her too evident desire to 
 strip off the bandage, and keep him from his 
 hard-earned knowledge even at the last, he re- 
 solved to have one more interview — whether long 
 or short, to be determined by circumstances. 
 
 He found her reeling-in carefully ; and having 
 despatched, or at least permitted, Mrs Comline 
 to hunt about in search of an imaginary pair of 
 gloves, which, it is to be presumed, she thought 
 it only natural that a gentleman of Evelyn's 
 standing should have about him when out trout- 
 fishing, he accosted her youthful charge with, 
 " This is the third service you have rendered 
 me within a few hours. I hope I am not ex- 
 pected to take myself off without tendering in 
 return either money or thanks ? " 
 
 " Money ! " exclaimed the girl, flushing to her 
 brow. 
 
 ('' So much for jocularity,'' muttered Evelyn, 
 aside. '* A wrong cast altogether.") "You don't 
 like to be jested with, I perceive ? " he said 
 aloud. 
 
 " I don't — understand it." 
 
 '^ Nor like it 1" 
 
 "No." 
 
 After a moment's pause, she added slowly —
 
 6 8 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 "The most cruel words I have ever heard 
 spoken were said in jest." 
 
 "That," replied Evelyn, much touched, "is 
 enough. No one can help disliking what has 
 been to them a channel for pain ; you will surely, 
 however, pardon one who had no unkind inten- 
 tions, and whose last wish it would be to awaken 
 any recollections that could distress ? " and he 
 held out his hund. 
 
 Kather to his surprise he found it laid hold 
 of and retained. " Forgive me," said his com- 
 panion, with an earnestness in her tone, and a 
 fervour in her eye, that were as disproportionate 
 to the scene as had been her former exaggeration 
 of reserve, — " forgive me. I am sorry I spoke 
 to you like that : you did nothing to deserve it ; 
 you — you would not do an unkindness to any 
 human being, I do believe." 
 
 " Would not hurt a fly, — let alone the spider 
 which that wicked woman must have destroyed 
 when she brought down so ruthlessly its little 
 web. Do you think it possible the animal sur- 
 vived the shock ? " 
 
 He was answered by the sweetest, merriest, 
 most musical laugh in the world.
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 69 
 
 " All the same, this cut is rather a bore/' said 
 Evelyn to himself, when at length he set off on 
 his solitary walk — he having hitherto regarded 
 the trifle in the light of an unmitigated piece 
 of good fortune, especially since he had felt it 
 necessary, after his last experience, to offer sun- 
 dry assurances that he should in person return 
 the handkerchief. "It is really rather a bore," 
 he now reflected. " Stupid place Castle Kenrick 
 when you can't do things, and to-day I could 
 hold neither a rod, a gun, nor a cue. Perhaps I 
 may as well go on to Carnochan this evening. 
 They are expecting me ; so, though I had not 
 meant to go, all things considered, I may as well 
 not disappoint 'em." 
 
 To the Castle he must, however, adjourn first, 
 to pack up and make his adieux ; and the day 
 proving bright and exhilarating, the distance, 
 which on the previous evening had been a bug- 
 bear to the imagination, was now precisely the 
 right length for a pleasant morning's stroll. 
 
 As he walked along he could perceive that the 
 damage done by the gale was slight as compared 
 to what it must have been had the country been 
 more cultivated : everything capable of sustain- 
 ing injury had indeed been blown away long
 
 70 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 before ; and only here and there clusters of 
 stones had been knocked down from exposed 
 portions of walls, and small bushes had been 
 bowled over, and lay on their sides, with their 
 roots stripped clean of mould and fibre. 
 
 The boom of the waves, which now came sul- 
 lenly and continuously from beneath, proclaimed 
 that they had sunk to a tithe of their former 
 size, and that without any visible results. 
 Pieces of sea-weed strewed the fields ; but even 
 where these last came down to the shore, and 
 had been entirely at the mercy of the water, 
 they had not apparently suffered. 
 
 As soon as our pedestrian was hidden from 
 the view of any one who might be following him 
 with her eyes — he wondered much if she would, 
 — he drew out the end of the traitor handker- 
 chief, which he had carefully tucked into the 
 hollow of his palm ; he did not even require to 
 untie the knot to satisfy his curiosity. 
 
 The pink letters were there — a great deal of 
 pink, it appeared — but, exasperating disappoint- 
 ment ! nearly the whole was a floral flourish, 
 with two simple letters in the centre. 
 
 He had expected a name, perhaps a coronet, — 
 something, at any rate, by which he could trace
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 7l 
 
 the owner ; but behold, a plain C. N. in satin- 
 stitch embroidery, very neatly and prettily 
 worked, was his sole reward. 
 
 It was better than nothing, and that was all 
 that could be said of it. 
 
 " C. N," he muttered aloud—" C. N. What 
 a fuss to make over only a C. N. ! I had hoped 
 for a great deal more. Those twirls and flour- 
 ishes are ridiculously, superfluously nonsensical : 
 all that is needed is the name of the person to 
 whom the article belongs, and it should be there 
 in full. Pah ! I made sure it was ; I saw a 
 perfect mass of pink, and acted accordingly. 
 C. N. was hardly worth the trouble.^' 
 
 By-and-by it was. " So they would not let 
 me send it by post 1 Very good, my fair C. N. 
 You shall receive it otherwise, in that case. I 
 do not leave it at Castle Kenrick to be fetched 
 by the farmer when he is over there next, I 
 promise you. Nor do I say a word about you 
 to anybody there. Why, you foolish girl, this 
 handkerchief alone would set people talking ; 
 farmers' daughters don't have cambric like gos- 
 samer. After all, I believe I really must try to 
 keep up the mystery a little longer, for my own 
 sake : I have not had such a piece of good-luck
 
 72 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 for many a day. Being picked up by the way- 
 side by a mysterious beauty, and brought into 
 a nest of comforts that it makes one long to be 
 tired and hungry again to think of. How nice 
 it was ! How the storm roared outside ! I 
 should have been drenched through, besides 
 being nearly done up, if I had had to trudge all 
 these nine miles back after the mistake was 
 cleared up ; and into the bargain, I should not 
 have had half so pleasant an evening. Every- 
 thing was so uncommonly snug, and comfortable, 
 
 and cheery ; but it was ' C. N.' who no — was 
 
 it, though '? " . . . 
 
 Great was the jubilation over the defaulter 
 when at length he was descried approaching the 
 Castle. He was a poor dear man, a stupid tire- 
 some man, an unfeeling cruel wretch, a bar- 
 barian, and a monster, all at once. 
 
 What did he mean by such conduct ? Where 
 had he been ? What had he to say for himself ? 
 How had they all been experiencing on his be- 
 half such hours of misery as had left them no 
 spirits, no inclination for anything ; and here 
 was he who had been the centre of their solici- 
 tude, the object of their anxiety, the topic of 
 their tenderest conjectures and surmises, walk-
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 73 
 
 ing in as coolly as though nothing had hap- 
 pened ! 
 
 Pray, what had happened ? Had he lain in 
 a ditch all night? Had he fallen over the 
 dreadful rocks, and waited for daylight to pick 
 up the pieces and put himself together again ? 
 Had he sheltered among the ruins of the old 
 Abbey, and fed and warmed himself with the 
 recollection of the midnight orgies that had in 
 olden times been celebrated there ? 
 
 It was a shabby trick to play upon his 
 friends. How were they to know he was well 
 off, and enjoying himself? Lady Airdrie had 
 thought about hysterics several times, and 
 Netta had declared that, though she did not 
 mind going to the piano, they really must ex- 
 cuse her playing waltzes. 
 
 Besides which, there had been no fish for 
 dinner. The cook had made so sure of Captain 
 Evelyn's trout, that she had neglected to pro- 
 vide in case of deficiency ; and fancy Mrs 
 Brewster's feelings when there was no fish for 
 dinner ! 
 
 On her the blow must certainly have fallen 
 hardest of all, since her son, who had been 
 Evelyn's friend through thick and thin, would
 
 74 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 not allow any one to abuse him behind his 
 back, and had maintained that the trout would 
 be in time up to the very last moment. 
 
 Mrs Brewster, a mild old lady who had no 
 idea what they were talking about, assented to 
 all that was said. She was sure she was very 
 glad to see Captain Evelyn back, and very sorry 
 to hear they were to lose him again that day. 
 
 So, it soon appeared, were all. 
 
 The ladies were bereft, at the time he re- 
 turned, of everything in the shape of a male 
 being, and it followed that the appearance at 
 mid-day of a man of any sort was hailed as a 
 perfect windfall. 
 
 And a man like Evelyn ! 
 
 They could not make enough of him. 
 
 Castle Kenrick was a sporting-house, and that 
 alone. From eleven to six no masculine voice 
 nor tread was ever heard within the precincts 
 of the Castle ; all those weary hours the poor 
 women were left to their own resources — it be- 
 ing, perchance rashly, presumed that they pos- 
 sessed such ; but what they did with themselves 
 remained unknown, and it was a secret which 
 it certainly never entered the heads of fathers, 
 husbands, or brothers to inquire into. They
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 7o 
 
 came in fresh and gently fatigued, after their 
 exhilarating days on the hill and the river, and 
 found awaiting their return bright faces, pretty 
 dresses, and rekindled animation ; but the ex- 
 perience of Evelyn, after passing two hours 
 and a half with a bevy of the fair at his heels 
 wherever he went, was such that he could never 
 think of their fate again without pity. 
 
 He was impatient to be off. 
 
 All the petting, questioning, and upbraiding 
 were distasteful at the moment ; and he almost 
 wished that he had not done so well for him- 
 self and his reputation, when it went the round 
 that he had been found half dead on the moor, 
 and had been forced to spend the night at a 
 lonely, miserable, storm-beaten farmhouse, out 
 of reach of the barest necessities of life. 
 
 Perhaps it was as well that his friend Brew- 
 ster was not at home to dispel the illusion. 
 
 Brewster's mother was old and frail, and 
 seldom went far from her own doors. She 
 knew the farm, and could vouch for its being 
 a long way off, and for their tenants, the farmer 
 and his wife, being respectable people, but she 
 knew no more ; and Evelyn heard her avow her 
 ignorance with a feeling of relief. When she
 
 76 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 first opened her lips, he found himself listening 
 with some anxiety. He did not wish to hear 
 then and there who " C. N." was. 
 
 His bound-up hand next came under ob- 
 servation. 
 
 Was it a fall, or a cut, or a sprain 1 
 
 What had he done for it ? What would he 
 allow to be done for it now ? 
 
 '* Do let me have a peep ? '' implored the 
 Netta who had drawn the line at waltzes. '' Oh 
 dear ! it must be terribly painful by the way 
 you shrink back. If you would only allow me 
 to untie your handkerchief — did you bind it 
 up yourself ? — oh, the farmer's wife did, I 
 suppose ; but I could do it quite as neatly, 
 and " 
 
 " And some friar's balsam," suggested Netta's 
 mamma. '* But if I were Captain Evelyn I 
 should not trust myself to any such raw practi- 
 tioner. There is a small case of medicines in 
 
 my room 
 
 He had to beg off resolutely. 
 
 *'Well, I must say," put in another lady, 
 who quite approved of the refusal, "men do 
 manage wonderfully when they are left to 
 themselves ; they are so neat-fingered."
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 77 
 
 The man in question acknowledged the 
 compliment, but at the moment a vision of 
 other neat fingers than his own rose before 
 his eye. 
 
 He was getting very sick of it all, saying to 
 himself that some people never know when to 
 hold their tongues, never can let a subject drop. 
 After it was found that he could not use a 
 knife and fork, he heard nothing for the next 
 half-hour but references to " your poor hand." 
 
 There was nothing to change his mind, nor 
 make him delay his departure, and the dog- 
 cart was at the door by two o'clock. In another 
 few minutes he should be rid of them all ; and 
 he was gaily taking leave at the door, when his 
 eye suddenly fell on a form more interesting, 
 and at the same time more dangerous, than any 
 by which he was surrounded. Honest Comline 
 himself, walking round from the back entrance 
 with a pocket-book in his hand, came up full of 
 self - gratulation on being just in time. The 
 pocket - book, which was full of letters and 
 papers, had been left on Evelyn's dressing-table, 
 — no, it was under his pillow, and it h.ad thus 
 escaped detection until the bed had been made. 
 He being from home, and no messenger handy.
 
 78 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 they had not been able to send over before. 
 "But an the wife had kenned," quoth the 
 goodman, " it was sic a close shave as this, she 
 wad hae fand a way, see an she wouldna ! 
 Were ye no' coming for it yourseV, Captain ? " 
 *' To tell you the truth, — Fm ashamed to con- 
 fess it, — but I had never discovered my loss." 
 
 Amazement exhausted, the farmer bethought 
 him of his next commission. 
 
 " An it wad do your han' nae harm," he said, 
 " it wad maybe save ye trouble, sir, to gie me 
 hame the nipkin. No' to hurt ye, mind — no' to 
 
 hurt ye " 
 
 '*0h, I could not think of it, Mr Comline. 
 The bandage must not be removed at any price. 
 It's no trouble in the world to bring it back, 
 and your good wife has promised to make me 
 welcome when I next appear. I certainly hope 
 to pay my respects to you both again before 
 long," taking care not to be overheard. " I am 
 afraid now, as I am just starting, I must not 
 
 stop to bring you inside, but " 
 
 " Hoot awa, sir ! I'm nae strynger here," 
 replied the old man, with a mixture of dignity 
 and rebuke. " I ken my way to Mr Purvis's 
 room wi'oot fashin' onybody. Good day to ye,
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 79 
 
 Captain, and a fair journey and a bonnie wel- 
 come. Ye hae a lang and weary ride afore ye, 
 and I doot it will be pit-mirk afore ye reach 
 Carnochan. And that's a pity, for it's a bon- 
 nie place, — a bonnie place ; see it in the sun- 
 light, and " 
 
 " You know it ? " said Evelyn, surprised. 
 " You did not tell me that before ? " 
 
 *' Oo ay, I hae been there," replied the far- 
 mer, drily. " I hae been there, as weel as at 
 ither places. Kirkcudbright is on the road to a 
 wheen trystes, and Carnochan is nae distance 
 frae Kirkcudbright, though it's afF the coast. 
 I was there — ahem — nae lang syne." 
 
 " How long will it take me to drive from 
 here 1 " 
 
 " It's thairty miles ; ye can tell yersel' hoo 
 lang that will tak. Captain ? " 
 
 "Oh, I shall do it easily in three hours and 
 a half." 
 
 " Wi' three gude beasts — no' unless. It took 
 me five, sax hours — ay, and mair — when I cam 
 frae Carnochan yon time. Cade day — sir, gude 
 day, — I'm keepin' you ; " and he was off before 
 more could be said. 
 
 " Curious," said Evelyn to himself, " that he
 
 80 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 should never have said a word as if he knew 
 the place when I was talking so freely about it 
 before." 
 
 It was dark, as the farmer had prognosticated, 
 ere he reached his journey's end. The little 
 railway which now runs along the Wigtown and 
 Galloway coast was not in existence at the time 
 we write of; and although fresh horses were to 
 be had at different places by the way, and he 
 had an excellent coaching-road to traverse, either 
 the distance was longer than reckoned, or he 
 was delayed at the stages more than had been 
 counted upon. 
 
 The whole aspect of the country altered as he 
 proceeded eastward. It was cultivated and ver- 
 dant. Fields of grain were either ripe for the 
 sickle or were being already stacked, broad 
 rivers watered fertile meadows, and trees re- 
 sumed a more natural shape and exhibited a 
 greater variety. 
 
 It was all pretty and pastoral, but somehow 
 at the moment our traveller did not like it so 
 well as the dreary wastes he had left behind. 
 
 They suited his mood. 
 
 Fair and undulating valleys were very well 
 in their way, but he saw them in abundance
 
 A TELL-TALE HANDKERCHIEF. 81 
 
 round the woody heights of Evelyn Towers, and 
 he fancied that he was tired of smooth, sleepy 
 scenes. 
 
 He smiled to himself as he still cauofht at 
 intervals the sound of the breakers below the 
 rocky bank — they seemed like the voices of a 
 pleasant memory ; and on turning inland he was 
 ready to exclaim almost pettishly on the folly of 
 people building their houses away from the sea. 
 
 By-and-by, however, he could laugh at him- 
 self with returning recollection. 
 
 " What a simpleton I am ! Imagine Lady 
 Olivia stuck down among those wilds ! As it 
 is, she looks upon herself as more than half 
 buried alive, I suspect, though she would not 
 own as much for the world. My poor mother ! 
 How hard she fights to say the right thing at 
 all times ! I hope and trust her ^ dear delightful 
 Carnochan ' is not a delusion from bemnnino^ to 
 end. Ha ! Is this the place ? " responding to 
 a guttural intimation of his driver. 
 
 '' It is ? Oh, I am glad of it ! " continued 
 Evelyn, inwardly summing up. " Deer park, 
 avenue, good lodges, well-kept grounds ;■ — hum, 
 — all very well, so far. Ton my word, she has 
 not done amiss for herself. I am glad I came, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and I can run over from here very easily." 
 (Whither he was to run, the reader will guess.) 
 '' I need have no bother. Drive myself half the 
 way, and change. Castle Kenrick can serve as 
 an excuse. Oho ! Another lodge, and some 
 very good trees. I like the place. And there's 
 the house. Good house — but not up to the 
 premises. Looks rather old and musty. Scotch 
 houses generally are musty. Well, I shall come 
 upon 'em without their knowing it, and so escape 
 a fuss." 
 
 This, however, was not to be. 
 
 He had been detected from a window ; and 
 though Lady Olivia could not possibly upset 
 her work-table, smash her teacup, and clasp her 
 bracelet in time to get to the end of the room 
 before he was entering the doorway, she was 
 ready to meet him there with the tenderest ex- 
 pressions of joy and astonishment, and taking 
 his hand in hers, present her son to her husband.
 
 PART II.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN, 
 
 " Siisj)icions that the mind of itself gathers, are hut buzzes ; hut sus- 
 picions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads by the 
 tales and whisperings of others, have stings." — Bacon. 
 
 A BRIDE of twenty may or may not engross the 
 attention of her friends to the full extent of her 
 belief, but it rarely happens that the nuptials of 
 a widow more than double that age excite even 
 the typical nine days' wonder. 
 
 Lady Olivia Evelyn, handsome, charming, and 
 gay, was nevertheless beyond her prime even as 
 a fine woman, and the event which united her 
 to the second man of her choice, though duly 
 heralded, chronicled, and congratulated upon, 
 did not perhaps create the full measure of sen- 
 sation she had anticipated. 
 
 In relinquishing the world — according to her 
 idea of such a renunciation — she fondly believed 
 
 .m.
 
 86 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 that the loss was not entirely on one side ; in 
 resigning her post as leader of the toUy she was 
 unaware that only in her own eyes had she ever 
 held it ; and in mourning over the void which 
 the cessation of her assemblies must have caused, 
 she forgot to remember how scantily they had 
 been attended. 
 
 It suited her invariably to put the best face 
 on everything connected with herself. 
 
 But the plain truth was, that even in her best 
 days Lady Olivia had never shone forth in her 
 sphere with any prominence, and that such con- 
 sideration as was shown her, was due to her birth 
 and position rather than to any qualities of the 
 heart or head which could command respect. 
 
 As long as she could give parties in Hill 
 Street, and invite guests to Evelyn Towers, she 
 could not be without acquaintance ; but when 
 the majority of her only son altered her position 
 with regard to these and other matters, and it 
 was seen that the two were not inseparable — 
 indeed they were seldom together — her status 
 in society suffered. 
 
 Of this Evelyn was probably unaware — in- 
 deed it is certain that he was so, since otherwise 
 his good - nature would indubitably have led
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 87 
 
 liim, even at some sacrifice to himself, to give 
 countenance to his parent. In every respect he 
 was, it is true, cast in another mould ; they had 
 no single point in common either as regarded 
 disposition or tastes, and he could not conceal 
 from himself that she possessed but a slight 
 hold on his affections ; but had it once occurred 
 to him that by remaining at the Towers whilst 
 she was there, or residing under the same roof 
 when they were in London at the same time, he 
 could have done more than merely afford her 
 pleasure, he would not have refused to give up 
 his own will. In this instance, as in many 
 others. Lady Olivia's own peculiar faculty for 
 being cheerful at the expense of truth, militated 
 against herself. 
 
 She would neither hear nor suggest a word 
 to the effect that anything and everything con- 
 nected with her lot was not flawless. So long 
 as she could laud her darling boy behind his 
 back, she consented to see his face but seldoui ; 
 and would he but permit her the exultation 
 of announcing that she had a letter from him 
 in her pocket, she cared not that the writing 
 barely covered a single page. 
 
 Thus it came to pass that a perfectly good
 
 88 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 understanding was established between the two, 
 and that although it was patent to the world 
 that Lady Olivia was a mother only in name, 
 and that Evelyn interested himself but slightly 
 in her concerns, and shunned her society, both 
 would with equal readiness have repudiated the 
 idea that they were not on the best of terms ; 
 and when, with joyful haste, she despatched to 
 him the tidings of her being about to contract 
 another alliance, she was not mistaken in reckon- 
 ing on one at least who would read the intelli- 
 gence with gratification. 
 
 He might not put faith in her raptures, nor 
 credit above the half of her statements, but 
 enough remained to interest and to excite his 
 approval. 
 
 He was as well pleased as ever he had been in 
 his life, — or so, at least, he told himself, oblivi- 
 ous of the fact that the same phrase had risen to 
 his lips when the puppies of his favourite pointer 
 Jemima proved to be of the right sort, when his 
 old chum Harry Burly was chosen stroke of the 
 Trinity boat, and when repeated efforts enabled 
 him to hit the trick of balancing a fork on the 
 back of his hand, throwing an orange into the 
 air and catching it on the spike.
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 89 
 
 He might not exert himself vehemently to 
 seek his future stepfather's acquaintance, nor 
 was he to be depended upon for being present 
 at the wedding, but he certainly intended to be 
 civil all round, and was — repeatedly — " as well 
 pleased as ever he had been in his life." 
 
 This, however, was enough. 
 
 His mother felt that she had done the right 
 thing, that her judgment had been manifested, 
 her charms vindicated. It seemed so easy 
 now, — so easy and simple a matter this bring- 
 ing of suitors to her feet, after things had 
 been settled between her and Mr Newbattle, 
 that she in secret wondered at herself for not 
 having done something in that way before. 
 What had hindered her ? 
 
 What but her orphan boy. For dear Eupert's 
 sake alone, it must have been, that she had 
 resisted importunity hitherto ; and nothing was 
 plainer than that, now when he no longer needed 
 her protecting care, she was free to think for 
 herself. That he had not needed the care for 
 the last seven years, and that he had never had 
 it during the twenty -one previous ones, was 
 immaterial, — nobody could be more charmingly 
 blind than Lady Olivia when necessary, — and
 
 90 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 her orphan son — in consideration of his six feet 
 one inch, and his moustache, he was permit- 
 ted to be ''son" instead of "boy" — figured 
 prominently in her announcements of her sec- 
 ond marriage. 
 
 Nothing could be more radiant than was the 
 widow's description of her prospects. 
 
 As a matter of fact, she was sincerely pleased: 
 she would have once more a house and estab- 
 lishment of her own ; she would regain all her 
 former consideration in the eyes of the world ; 
 and she would be relieved from the haunting 
 apprehension that any day might see her trans- 
 formed into a dowager. Added to this, her 
 future husband was undoubtedly an agreeable 
 peaceable gentleman, with whom it would be 
 easy to live. He was himself a widower, 
 elderly and somewhat old-fashioned ; it was 
 not unflattering that he seemed already half 
 terrified at his audacity in contemplating a 
 union with so august a lady, and altogether 
 amazed at his success. He was certain to be 
 manageable. 
 
 Since he had a family, it was a great point 
 that it consisted entirely of daughters. No 
 daughters could make themselves as disagree-
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 91 
 
 able 'as could sons. They would probably be 
 pretty and amiable, and she would have the 
 satisfaction of marrying them off soon. Or, if 
 not, girls were always useful in a house : how 
 often had she wished for some herself, when 
 there were things to be done, notes to be 
 written, and guests to be attended to. One 
 poor head and pair of hands could not accom- 
 plish everything ; and a sweet, pretty daughter, 
 especially now that she saw so little of her 
 
 son but here she would pull up short, even 
 
 when speaking to herself. 
 
 To other auditors it naturally followed that 
 such honest self-congratulation took the form 
 of inflated panegyric upon every person and 
 circumstance connected with her new alliance. 
 
 " I am indeed only too fortunate, my kind 
 Lady Julia ; I have nothing, nothing in the 
 world to wish for. As for the children, whom 
 some — including dear, prudent Lady Anne — 
 imagined I might fancy a drawback, why, I 
 expect to find in them my greatest treasures ! 
 To their companionship and society, I can assure 
 you both, I am looking forward as much as to 
 anything else in the bright prospect now open- 
 inof before me."
 
 92 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 The ladies to whom so much was confided 
 listened discreetly. If they glanced at each 
 other now and then, if there followed an ex- 
 pressive silence after the eloquent peroration, 
 it is possible each knew what the other was 
 thinking of, and that they were reflecting in- 
 wardly that, however bright might be the 
 prospect before their old friend, the other side 
 of the picture — namely, that turned towards 
 the family of her bridegroom — was more shady. 
 
 That Lady Olivia should behold no dark 
 spots on her side, by having recourse to the 
 simple expedient of daubing the blemishes 
 over, was all very well, but they '' humphed " 
 to themselves as they thought of the poor 
 girls. Yes — undoubtedly they were, or would 
 be soon, "poor girls." 
 
 The two finely-mannered aristocrats who sat 
 up and gave ear, were, you see, up to all the 
 tricks and turns of their ancient ally ; they 
 knew that so long as neither forbearance, nor 
 generosity, nor sweetness of temper was needed, 
 and so long as a flow of words and a certain 
 indolent hilarity met every exigency of the case, 
 she might pass muster excellently well; but 
 they also knew that directly the smooth current
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 93 
 
 of her days was interrupted by any obstruction, 
 — that were she to be called upon to give up a 
 pleasure, or exert herself to perform a duty, her 
 amiability was no more to be depended upon 
 than that of any other uniformly selfish person. 
 
 Her code was a short one. 
 
 What was considered proper in the circle in 
 which she had been brought up, what was done 
 by them, and said by them, was all she wished 
 to know. Their opinions alone were founded 
 in truth, reason, and justice — or if not, in the 
 fashionable substitutes for sucli, that did as 
 well, or better. So far as her experience went — 
 and on this experience she prided herself — well- 
 born and well-bred people were of one stamp 
 all the world over ; and the idea of making 
 allowance for peculiarities indigenous to differ- 
 ent soils, would have seemed preposterous in 
 her eyes. 
 
 Nobody could open her eyes better than Lady 
 Olivia when surprise was to be exhibited ; it 
 was her sole argument ; she detested representa- 
 tions, and could not understand reason. 
 
 Had a hint been offered that she might find 
 in her dear Mr Newbattle's dear daughters, 
 characters already moulded, and wills formed
 
 94 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS, 
 
 which she might strive in vain to alter, the 
 width to which her round blue orbs would 
 have extended would have been alarming. 
 Such a thing could not possibly be. No ; her 
 settlement could no more be inadequate, nor 
 her jewellery disappointing, than could she 
 find herself deceived in her sweetest children 
 — her Alice, Kate, Bertha, and Marjorie, — all 
 their names quite pat, tripping off her tongue 
 in accents that were nothing short of car- 
 essing. 
 
 Alice, Kate, Bertha, and Marjorie were, it may 
 as well be confessed at once, likely to give such 
 fond anticipations a deadly shock. 
 
 The elder two had been permitted to bring 
 themselves up after the usual fashion agreeable 
 to young ladies who have only an absent-minded 
 indulgent father at their head — that is to say, 
 they had learned as little or as much as they 
 chose, under a governess who was aw^are that 
 she was in their power, for better, for worse ; 
 and they had virtually emancipated themselves 
 from all rules, even while nominally remaining 
 in the schoolroom. 
 
 At the respective ages of seventeen and six- 
 teen they had assured their parent, who will-
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 95 
 
 ingly took their, word for it, that their education 
 was complete — and that a nursery governess, 
 whom they themselves selected, and who, strange 
 to say, was really a sensible person, if not pre- 
 cisely superior, was all that was necessary for 
 the younger ones. 
 
 Kate was thus free to read poetry and make 
 extracts, and Alice to ruminate before her look- 
 ino'-alass. 
 
 Not that Alice was the handsomer of the 
 two — far from it ; but she was a full year and 
 a half older than her sister, and had learned 
 to know that she had a nose, a neck, and a 
 chin. 
 
 Moreover, the time she thought was at hand 
 for her to display her charms, and it was natural 
 that they should be of more moment to her 
 than if she had been still drudging over her 
 books. 
 
 Books were a nuisance ; she had had enough 
 of them ; she wanted to dress, chatter, and 
 dance — to see and be seen ; and, so far, she was 
 not certainly unlike others of her age. Kate 
 might look scornful, but, for all that, the feeling 
 was natural enough ; it was the root of the 
 matter which was somehow not strai.oht, the
 
 96 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 shallowness and vacuity of mind which in- 
 duced the vanity. 
 
 Aware that she was surpassed in appearance 
 by her next sister, it was Alice's intention to 
 excel in other points of attraction. She would 
 be more amiable, prettily behaved, obliging, and 
 attentive. She would not openly demand '^ Love 
 me more than Kate ; think more highly of me 
 than of her," — but her mode of extorting a pre- 
 ference amounted to little less. It was her right 
 to proffer civilities ; to be at home when visitors 
 called. An opportunity of showing her smiles 
 and her thoughtfulness was courted. She liked 
 to be the single one of the four to strike out a 
 new thing, tread a new path, — and would go to 
 church twice on a Sunday in order to show that 
 she was the only member of the household who 
 did so. 
 
 Kate was different : a curious, unexplored, 
 reticent girl ; sometimes so amusing that her 
 sisters shrieked over her sallies ; but usually 
 grave, absent - minded, and lost in her own 
 thoughts. When roused from these, it was too 
 often by something which excited her contempt 
 or indignation. Nothing sly, nothing slippery 
 dared be attempted if the second sister were by
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 97 
 
 any chance likely to hear of it, since to face her 
 wrath was more than the other three severally, 
 or in unison, cared to run the risk of doing, 
 even while, behind her back, they would shrug 
 their shoulders and raise their pretty eyebrows, 
 thanking their stars that they had not her 
 temper. 
 
 It was an unfortunate possession in the eyes 
 of all, and gave them, each one, a superiority 
 over the unpopular member of the family. 
 Even Maidie, a typical spoilt child, who was 
 wont to obtain her own way by dint of tears 
 and piteousness, would be shocked at Kate ; 
 while Bertha would prim up her lips, and look 
 meek, by way of contrast. 
 
 Bertha was the least noticeable of the four 
 in every way, and, poor girl, was sufficiently 
 aware of being so, even at the age of thirteen, to 
 make her peevish and fretful, since she had not 
 humility of mind nor sweetness of disposition 
 sufficient to enable her to accept her inferiority 
 without repining. Without Alice's good looks, 
 she had a resemblance to her eldest sister, which, 
 had fortune been equally kind to her in the 
 way of outward gifts, would probably have 
 manifested itself strongly: as it was, she could 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 only long, with equal intensity, to be admired 
 and approved, and have the constant mortifica- 
 tion of feeling that neither admiration nor ap- 
 proval was likely to fall to her share. The 
 little Marjorie, — a great girl of eleven, who, after 
 the manner of family fictions, was still called 
 ^' little," though on a larger scale than any one 
 of the others, and likely soon to overtop them 
 all — the little Maidie, as she was called, — was 
 the favourite among the rest. She was a smil- 
 ing, sunny-faced mischief-monger ; and the un- 
 derstanding was that she could do no wrong, 
 — a tradition easy to keep up, since everything 
 became right when stamped with her author- 
 ity. Such were the four daughters to whom 
 Mr Newbattle of Carnochan was about to give 
 the Lady Olivia Evelyn as a step-mother. How 
 little idea any one of them had of any such 
 impending catastrophe, and indeed how far 
 was it from their parent's own contemplations 
 but a few weeks previous to his meeting with 
 the lady in question, may be gathered from the 
 following. 
 
 *' Papa," from Alice, one day early in March, 
 *' how lucky it is that you have at last got 
 through your horrid lawsuit, and that we should
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 99 
 
 be SO comfortably settled with the servants and 
 all, just when it is so important on my account ! 
 Everything will be left in good order, and you 
 will have no anxieties to disturb you when the 
 time comes for you to bring me out." 
 
 He made no answer, and it was too probable 
 that he had understood nothing. She must try 
 again. 
 
 " Do you not think, papa, that it would be 
 an excellent idea to have this green damask 
 transferred to the library when we are obliged 
 to have new covers for the drawing-room ? I 
 am a great economist, you know, papa, and I 
 have thought it all over. The damask is really 
 not too old and shabby for the library, though 
 it is far too much worn for the drawing-room. 
 It has done very well so far ; but of course by- 
 and-by, when we begin to have people about, 
 and to give dinners, we must have things a 
 little nice." 
 
 " Why cannot she say, ' Papa, I want new 
 furniture, and I want company, and to lead a 
 different life ' ? AVhy cannot papa tell her to 
 speak out, and not try to wheedle him into con- 
 senting to he does not know what ? " muttered 
 the downright Kate, in scorn.
 
 100 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Alice, however, knew her cue ; and she suc- 
 ceeded so far, that whereas a blunt request 
 would have been met by a blunt denial, her 
 delicate insinuations knocked nobody over. 
 
 They began to work, moreover. 
 
 First of all was exhibited an attention not 
 often paid ; to this succeeded uneasiness, and 
 finally depression. 
 
 What was the meaning of all this about 
 ''going away," and giving dinners, and dam- 
 ask, and things ? What was that hint about 
 a new carriage '? that whisper of an increased 
 allowance '? 
 
 Could it be that there was more in all this 
 than mere girlish love of tormenting ? They 
 always had tormented him, those girls of his ; 
 but he had generally settled them by giving in, 
 and telling them to let him alone. It seemed 
 now, however, it actually seemed as though 
 no such easy conclusion to the matter were to 
 be permitted. 
 * The threatenings grew more ominous daily. 
 
 The air felt heavy with portentous rum- 
 blings. 
 
 Was it possible that some deep-rooted fell 
 conspiracy was on foot wholly to disturb and
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARXOCHAN. 101 
 
 break up the even tenor of his life ? Could his 
 own flesh and blood be, in stern reality, medi- 
 tating a course so vile 1 
 
 He looked at his daughters, and thrills of 
 apprehension trickled through every vein. 
 
 Good heavens 1 they were grown up — they 
 were women. They wore long gowns, and had 
 knotted up their hair. 
 
 It was no longer a case of a new pony or a 
 book ; it was a question of dressmakers, balls, 
 lovers, settlements — misery upon misery. 
 
 "Do let papa alone." Kate was the speaker, 
 and she had a flush on her cheek and a frown 
 on her brow as she addressed her eldest sister. 
 " Do let papa alone, Alice. Surely you have 
 worried him enough for the present with your 
 chaperones, and your fidgets, and your non- 
 sense." 
 
 '' That is all very well for you ; you would 
 never think of such a thing as a chaperone. 
 You would think that I could go about every- 
 where with only poor dear papa. As if I could ! 
 Besides which, it would be really cruel to him. 
 He must escort me to certain things ; but there 
 are others to which it will be absolutely neces- 
 sary that I should be taken by a lady. That's
 
 102 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 what Mrs Popham says, so I suppose you will 
 believe it." 
 
 Now, what Mrs Popham said was dogma in 
 the Carnochan household. When papa, who 
 was listening to the last remarks, though he 
 tried hard not to show it, heard the name of 
 Mrs Popham, he groaned aloud. 
 
 '' What, papa '? " said Alice, attentively. 
 
 '' Nothing, my dear — nothing." (" Ah," 
 sighed the poor gentleman, inwardly, *' it was 
 Mrs Popham, was it '? That was an ill turn 
 of Mrs Popham to do me.") 
 
 He had just before been turning over in his 
 miod the expediency of seeking counsel from 
 this old family friend ; but her name, thus in- 
 troduced between the combatants, struck that 
 ground from beneath his feet. 
 
 He saw pretty well how it was. Pretty 
 Susie Popham, who was just one year Alice's 
 senior, had, he knew, been taken up to London 
 the summer before, and had made her entry 
 into society there. She had been much with 
 his girls subsequently, — oh, far, far too much. 
 She must have had a hand in all the brewing of 
 this atrocious browst. 
 
 Cruel Mrs Popham ! Foolish parent of a friv-
 
 EVIL FOREBODINGS AT CARNOCHAN. 103 
 
 clous child ! could any one liave believed that 
 she, his own familiar friend, would have served 
 him thus ? 
 
 And as to his own girls, he was altogether 
 now at a loss. 
 
 Feelers, thrown out in fresh directions daily, 
 harassed him, till he knew not what to do or 
 say; for though he would fain not have listened, 
 and certainly did frequently permit the broad- 
 est allusions to pass unchallenged, he had never 
 been so quick in hearing in his life. Let him 
 be in the very heart of his newspaper or his 
 book, the first word let drop on one or other of 
 the dreadful topics, like the first boom of the 
 enemy's cannon before an engagement, fell on 
 his ear, a knell of horror. 
 
 He was wide-awake in a moment, and shivering. 
 
 Bertha's ill-used airs and Marjorie's questions 
 bore to his excited fancy as evil presages as did 
 their eldest sister's endless side-hints and her 
 wranglings with the more considerate younger. 
 He hated to hear Alice on the defensive, as 
 much as Kate expostulating. All seemed to 
 his astonished and enlightened spirit to bear on 
 the one theme, and he could not endure the 
 sight of Mrs Popham's shawl in the avenue.
 
 104 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ME NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 
 
 I myself, vanquished, with a peal of words 
 Gave up my fort of silence to a woman." 
 
 — Samson Agonistes. 
 
 Matters stood thus when the Squire fell in 
 with Lady Olivia. 
 
 He thought that he had never seen so fine a 
 woman. Everything she wore was pretty, and 
 everything she said was pleasant. 
 
 She was charmed with Scotland and the 
 Scotch people ; she wondered how anybody 
 could ever care to leave the dear romantic 
 country, with its beautiful hills, woods, and 
 glens. Glens ? was she not right ? Were not 
 those exquisite, wild-looking, heathery valleys 
 called glens ? She thought so, — yes. 
 
 Oh, she must taste the whisky. Only a very, 
 very little — dear ! stop ! that was far too much.
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 105 
 
 But how good it was, though it did make her 
 cough ! Everything indeed was good about 
 Scotland, just as everything w^as beautiful. 
 
 She was sure it was a beautiful part of the 
 country where Mr Newbattle lived, — indeed it 
 must be, for she had never seen, and she did 
 not believe there existed, any part that was not. 
 Did — ahem — did his property lie on the coast ? 
 
 Inland ? Oh ? 
 
 But near the coast ? Oh, indeed ? 
 
 After all, it was better to be only near the 
 coast than actually on it. The seaside was 
 often depressing, especially in winter. Winter 
 storms were terribly depressing. 
 
 Did Mrs Newbattle — oh, she begged his par- 
 don. She was so very, very sorry. 
 
 To think of her having made such a cruel 
 blunder ; she who ought to have been the very 
 last person in the whole world to have been so 
 wickedly thoughtless, having herself endured a 
 like loss. She could never forgive herself. 
 
 Presently, however, it was '^I scarcely dare 
 venture again, my dear Mr Newbattle, but I 
 thought I heard some one just now mention your 
 daughter ? Am I right ? Have you a daughter 
 left to solace you ? "
 
 106 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEKS. 
 
 She was right : he owned to the solace four 
 times repeated ; he had four solaces. 
 
 " Indeed '? And I have but one son. I see 
 so little of him now either, that it seems as if I 
 were altogether alone in the world." Wonderful 
 admission ! I^ut the reader will understand in 
 what it originated. 
 
 '' He is in the Life Guards," continued Lady 
 Olivia, burning to launch out upon her favourite 
 theme ; but prudence prevailed. It would not 
 do to neglect the four daughters for the sake of 
 the one son, and she returned to the charge. 
 '' They are but young, I presume, Mr Newbattle ; 
 you will have them with you at home for a long 
 while yet ? " 
 
 " That I cannot say. The eldest is nearly 
 eighteen." 
 
 Eighteen '? The lady tried amazement, though 
 her squire was bald and grey. " Eighteen ? My 
 dear Mr Newbattle ! " 
 
 '' Eighteen, ma am. And thinks herself quite 
 a woman." 
 
 "You have introduced her, then, and taken 
 her into the world ? " 
 
 Aha ! even here — even here he was not 
 to escape. The loathed necessity was draw-
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 107 
 
 ing daily its • chill mantle closer round 
 him. 
 
 " No, Lady Olivia," he answered, gloomily, 
 " I have done nothing of the sort — as yet. The 
 time will come soon enough. She is ready, at 
 all events." 
 
 " And can you wonder at it ? Take a mother s 
 advice," merrily ; " send her into society as fast 
 as you can, — marry her, and have done with it. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " If I could send her, indeed," said the poor 
 laird, ruefully. His nightmare was not the 
 sending of her, but the taking her himself. 
 
 " And why not ? " inquired his new friend. 
 " Why not '? Get some elderly relation, some 
 sister or sister-in-law, some one who knows the 
 world, who would give your daughter conse- 
 quence, and who has nothing else to do, to un- 
 dertake their charge. It is not, indeed, for you 
 to be troubled," tenderly. 
 
 Nice woman, this. Saw things in the right 
 way. Of course it was not for him to be 
 troubled ; but that, those four inconsiderate 
 young she-rascals at home never thought of. 
 
 Still, the idea, thougli soothing, was impracti- 
 cable, for one good reason.
 
 108 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEES. 
 
 '' I have not a sister or sister-in-law in the 
 world," replied he. 
 
 " How sad ! " Lady Olivia's eyes sparkled. 
 She did not open them in her unpleasing fashion, 
 but they shone and glittered round the poor 
 bewildered fly, whom she was metaphorically 
 inviting to "walk up." By-and-by he had 
 told her every single thing about himself and 
 his troubles, and she had sympathised as surely 
 no one had ever sympathised with him before. 
 
 He, too, was informed of all that it was well 
 he should know about herself and her surround- 
 ings, — where she usually lived, how independ- 
 ent she was, how unfettered, yet how homeless. 
 Also why she had come to Edinburgh. 
 
 She had come to Ediuburo^h for the end of 
 the Edinburgh season, for no other reason than 
 that she did so love the people, and the customs, 
 and the ways of the place. She adored every- 
 thing but the climate. The climate was — well, 
 she would not say what it was. It, too, must 
 really be forgiven, when all besides was so 
 brilliant, so gay, so fascinating. She supposed 
 Mr Newbattle brought his family to Edinburgh 
 every spring ? 
 
 It proved to be her first wrong shot. He had
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 109 
 
 brought them sometimes; he never — viciously — 
 meant to bring them again. He was only up 
 himself on business. 
 
 However, the false move was speedily put to 
 rights. It was found to be Scotland, not Edin- 
 burgh, that was Lady Olivia's dream of beauty ; 
 and directly she had learned in what county 
 Carnochan was, she was prepared with raptures 
 about the treacherous Sol way, with its tides and 
 shifting sands, that would have done credit to 
 the most youthful votary of Scott and Burns. 
 
 Finally, he was invited to Evelyn Towers, and 
 he was to bring Alice thither. 
 
 He did not say whether he would or not, but 
 he smiled, blushed, blinked his eyes, and spoke 
 to no one else for the remainder of the evening. 
 In short, the old fellow was fooled to the top of 
 his bent, and went away confused and delirious 
 as though with wine. 
 
 He had very little to do in the meetings 
 which took place afterwards, and very little to 
 say at the interviews. All was managed for 
 him, and he had only to dilate now and then 
 upon his own concerns, enumerate his ancestors, 
 and describe the extent and nature of his estates. 
 
 In doing this he felt at home, and would wax
 
 110 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 eloquent ; while Lady Olivia listened attentively. 
 He had never before met with any one who was 
 so easily entertained. He had but to talk of 
 his house, his gardens, or his horses, and she 
 would stop whatever she was saying to hearken 
 to him. 
 
 At length the glorious meaning of the whole 
 dawned upon his bursting brain. He stared, 
 gaped, considered, and thought it would do. 
 
 He would not be too precipitate, would not 
 spoil everything by being in too great a hurry, 
 would certainly make sure still surer first, — but 
 still he meant business. 
 
 Here was the very chance he had been hoping 
 for, and wellnigh despairing of. Here was a clue 
 to guide him out of all his recent labyrinth of 
 perplexities. Here was a deliverer who would 
 satisfy all, and give offence to none. 
 
 Here, in short, was a dashing woman of fashion 
 and fortune, ready to step into the horrible 
 breach which otherwise he must himself be pre- 
 pared to hold, and save him from the threatened 
 danger. She had never for a moment allowed 
 him to hope that such a danger could be other- 
 wise averted ; pity for the trials and annoyances 
 into which he must presently plunge, had not
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. Ill 
 
 been once allowed to take the place of the decree 
 which pointed out the path of duty as the one 
 he must inevitably take ; and although he was 
 condoled with, he was given no hope of any- 
 thing in the shape of so much as a reprieve. 
 
 But a way of escape was open, if Lady Olivia 
 were really in earnest in other things she said ; 
 if he could believe that she would really be 
 willing to settle down at the old place, assist- 
 ing, moreover, its not too heavy rent-roll with 
 her comfortable jointure, — and to undertake 
 all his affairs, includiug the intractable young 
 ones. 
 
 What a fine thing it would be for them all ! 
 The girls would be satisfied, their father would 
 be saved, and he could snap his fiugers in Mrs 
 Popham's face. 
 
 His mind was made up in a trice. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha ! They did not give him credit 
 for being so clever. One and all would think 
 more of him hereafter, when he should have 
 carried through this grand exploit. 
 
 He would not tell them too soon. Let them 
 plot and plan a little longer, busying themselves 
 with the wily machinations that had made his 
 life a burden to him of late : he would sweep
 
 112 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 their cobwebs on one side presently ; he would 
 make them all jump on to their feet. 
 
 Little did any of them think what he was after. 
 
 Like it '? They might like it, or they might 
 not, — that was their own affair. If not, they 
 had only themselves to thank for it : they might 
 take this for their comfort, that they had made 
 their own bed, and must lie on it. 
 
 It was to insure a moment's peace, immunity 
 from the continual dinning of the same subject 
 into his ears, that he had betaken himself away 
 from home for a season, and it was to this esca- 
 pade that they should owe the arrangement in 
 prospect. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha ! He laughed again at the idea. 
 
 He planned how he would announce the 
 news. On their account, of course, it w^as to 
 be, that he had put himself out of his way. 
 For their sakes, he had considered it advisable 
 to confer on the family circle so valuable an 
 addition. He had understood that they felt the 
 need of some older person of their own sex, 
 some discreet and experienced friend, now that 
 they were advanced to years of womanhood ; 
 and he had felt that he could not do better for 
 them than provide them with a step-mother.
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 113 
 
 AYhatever they wanted in future, lie reflected, 
 they might go to Lady Olivia for. Let them 
 carry all their plots and their petitions to her, 
 and see what she would do for them. If she 
 chose to fall in with their views, to burden her- 
 self with their trumpery absurdities, well and 
 good ; he would have no objection, and there 
 w^ould be no excuse for any further pestering 
 of him. 
 
 Nothing should make him interfere ; that 
 was one point on which he was decided. They 
 should fight their own battles, and he should at 
 length be allowed to return to that peace and 
 quiet which his soul loved. 
 
 All his former habits of gentle selfishness 
 rose pleasantly before his view, and were loud 
 in approbation of the course he meditated, — and 
 since, after all, if a man may not please himself 
 when nobody else belonging to him is solicitous 
 of the honour, it is hard to say when he may. 
 Lady Olivia had taken his fancy, and fancy 
 was backed up by every other feeling and 
 motive. 
 
 The engagement took place, and fell like a 
 thunderbolt at Carnochan. 
 
 Papa ! 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 In that one word was expressed the grief, 
 amazement, and derision of his daughters. 
 
 Of all men in the world, Papa ! 
 
 To them he was merely a bald-headed, clean- 
 shaved, dinner - loving, church - going, elderly- 
 gentleman. He had always answered the pur- 
 pose so far as they were concerned, had duly 
 given them dessert after dinner while they 
 were children, and guineas on birthdays when 
 they were older. Although he had not cared 
 to join their walks or rides, he had provided 
 them with ponies and carriages ; and if he fell 
 asleep over their music, he had never refused 
 them tickets for concerts when in Edinburgh. 
 
 Altogether, papa had done very well; they 
 had never known any other papa, and they 
 were satisfied with the one they had. 
 
 As for thinking that he could ever give them 
 trouble, — that it was he, and not they, who 
 should reorganise the order of their days — that 
 anything more terrible could happen than that 
 he might be hard to stir up, and kick over the 
 traces a little at each of Alice's innovations, — 
 such a notion had never once entered their 
 heads ; nor would they have believed it within 
 the limits of possibility that he should have
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 115 
 
 dared to think and act for himself in a matter 
 of such delicacy, involving such results, had the 
 words in his own handwriting not been plainly 
 set before their outraged and disgusted vision. 
 
 Verily he had turned the tables ! 
 
 And who had instigated him to the terrible 
 deed 1 Not Mrs Popham ; she was the last per- 
 son to approve. Mr Macknight, the steward ? 
 No ; Mr Macknight's position would suffer too 
 much. Mr Maxwell, the lawyer '? Least likely 
 of all ; he was the girls' best friend. 
 
 Nevertheless it must have been some one, all 
 agreed — since everybody knew that papa would 
 never have so much as thought of such a thing 
 if he had been let alone ; and at length the four, 
 united in their common wretchedness, pitched 
 by good hap upon the guilty person. 
 
 She must have done it. She, this Lady 
 Olivia, this "kind and sensible person," who 
 was to " take their dear mother's place," — she 
 was the culprit. 
 
 " And papa to talk of his ' good fortune,' and 
 the ' agreeable surprise he is giving us,' and his 
 ' consulting our happiness'! " cried the indignant, 
 penetrating Kate, flinging down the letter ; " it 
 is hypocrisy and deceitfulness from beginning
 
 116 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to end ! It is the way he always goes on when- 
 ever he has done anything he knows he ought 
 not. He does not dare to speak out. If he 
 chooses to — to — to " 
 
 ''And just now of all times/' whimpered 
 Alice. ''It is worse for me than for any one 
 of you. I had arranged everything ; and that, 
 papa knew very well, — for I talked before him 
 quite openly. I had got down the new patterns 
 for the drawing-room covers, all ready to show 
 him as soon as he came back." 
 
 "They will do for the bride," said her sister, 
 bitterly. 
 
 " And what are we to call her 1 Must we 
 get ready our own dear mamma's rooms for a 
 stranger 1 Must we see this Lady Olivia take 
 her place at the head of the dinner-table " 
 
 " Oh, hold your tongue," sobbed Kate. 
 
 Mr Newbattle prudently resolved to postpone 
 his return to Carnochan until he had felt his 
 way a little ; so nothing was said on that sub- 
 ject in the letter which contained the great 
 announcement, — and the return post showed 
 him the wisdom of his decision. 
 
 Alice indeed, with precocious diplomacy, en- 
 deavoured to insert some prettily -turned phrases^
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. Il7 
 
 which should win for her favour in the eyes of 
 the new-comer, into her composition, as well 
 as to suppress in it all appearance of her real 
 sentiments. The thing being done, there was 
 no help for it. She choked down her dismay, 
 and composed as elegant an epistle as she 
 could. 
 
 But even she could not bring herself to do 
 more — she could not produce warmth or plea- 
 sure ; while the volleys fired off by Kate and the 
 younger ones were honest outbursts of affection, 
 resentment, and reproach. 
 
 But they all felt alike, nevertheless; and 
 though the laird's eyes twinkled on perusing 
 his eldest daughter's effusion, and he pro- 
 nounced it a sensible, well -expressed letter — 
 while he only grew red in the face over Kate's, 
 and thrust it down to the bottom of his 
 breeches-pocket, — he would not perhaps have 
 made such a distinction could he have seen into 
 the hearts of the several writers. 
 
 As it was. Miss Newbattle's dutiful note was 
 shown to Lady Olivia ; and he felt all the luck 
 of its being from his eldest daughter. A second 
 daughter can be suppressed without exciting 
 remark ; but had his first-born expressed herself
 
 118 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 improperly, it might have been awkward. As 
 for the young ones, Bertha and Marjorie, their 
 poor little pin-pricks never even scratched, for 
 he forgot to open the envelopes. 
 
 Lady Olivia retained the composition of her 
 dear step-daughter to be, and showed it round 
 to all who came to see the presents. 
 
 She was really gratified to have such a billet 
 to produce, since, although the penmanship was 
 indifferent, and there was a positive mistake in 
 the spelling, the sentiments were entirely what 
 they should have been ; and the whole was well 
 put together, and cleverly calculated to please. 
 In such a matter Alice could shine ; it afforded 
 scope for all the ability she possessed. 
 
 By next day's post there arrived at Carnochan 
 an envelope of the thickest, glossiest texture, 
 and of the most unmanageable shape. There 
 was not a moment's doubt from whom it came. 
 
 Three sheets of tiny note-paper, with about a 
 dozen words on each page, were at that time 
 the correct style of correspondence in fashion- 
 able circles ; and accordingly, three sheets were 
 duly found within. The writing, however, was 
 much closer together than need have been, for 
 Lady Olivia was that pest of friendship, an in-
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 119 
 
 veterate scribe.. On any and every occasion 
 she would, should, and must communicate with 
 her acquaintance at large ; and the present was 
 too valuable an opportunity for displaying her 
 rounded periods, and her gushing happiness, 
 not to be eagerly embraced. 
 
 She had begged leave to be allowed to write ; 
 and since such was the case, Mr Newbattle 
 thought he need not. There was no occasion 
 for two letters. Would she be so Q:ood as to 
 mention that he did not intend returning home 
 at present 1 
 
 In his own mind he had pretty well resolved 
 to defer meeting with his daughters until he 
 should face them under the wing of his august 
 consort. They must come up for the wedding ; 
 and here, in Edinburgh, with Lady Olivia by 
 his side, and amid all the novelty and gaiety 
 by which he was now surrounded, he could be 
 a bolder man than he could ever hope to feel 
 himself within the grey walls of his own old 
 tower. 
 
 Something of the tumult going on there, in 
 the household as well as in the family, had 
 escaped in the second letters of the girls ; Max- 
 well too, his lawyer, with whom he was now in
 
 120 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 communication, had shaken his head, smiling, 
 over the subject : and he felt it was only due to 
 his own peace of mind to keep out of the whole 
 mess. 
 
 Once he was observed to chuckle and rub 
 his hands merrily. He was reflecting on the 
 stopper he had put on all such insubordination 
 for the future. 
 
 Quarrels, and grievances, and nonsense he 
 could not stand — and indeed he had always 
 been useless when appealed to in a fray; but 
 now he dwelt with satisfaction on the relief it 
 would be to have a wife whose province it 
 would become to inquire into and adjust all 
 matters of dispute. No, no; he would let 
 them alone for the present, and for the future 
 they would have to let him alone. 
 
 As it was, Mr Newbattle enjoyed his few 
 weeks of courtship with a zest that was aston- 
 ishing to himself. 
 
 He drove with hisjlancee, and dined daily at 
 the house where she was staying ; and in the 
 intervals he stood in the bay-window of his 
 club. 
 
 Nobody interfered with him, nor worried him, 
 nor made demands upon him. He was per-
 
 MR NEVVBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 121 
 
 fectly independent, and did just what he liked, 
 and what suited him, all day long. 
 
 Old fogies joked him, tailors measured him, 
 his lawyer managed for him. Lady Olivia smiled 
 upon him. He himself did nothing, and that 
 was all he ever cared to do. 
 
 Carnochan seemed a long way off from all 
 that pleasant bustle and genial idleness. His 
 four angry girls could wait ; he was not going 
 to thrust himself into that lion's den again in a 
 hurry. 
 
 What '? Go back to be the victim of a paltry 
 persecution, and hear nothing but whining and 
 unpleasantness all day long ? Not he ; he had 
 put up with that sort of thing too long. It 
 was monstrous disagreeable to be always dic- 
 tated to ; he could not call his soul his own, he 
 had been so overridden of late. 
 
 And to be sure. Princes Street was exces- 
 sively amusing on the sunny March afternoons ; 
 the Exhibition of paintings was open, and all 
 his old cronies were up, either en garden like 
 himself, or with their wives and daughters for 
 the balls. 
 
 He met some of them every day ; and they 
 were so hearty, and congratulatory, and funny
 
 122 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 about his love affair, that he began to feel him- 
 self quite a dog, and wondered what he had 
 been about to keep away from them all so long. 
 
 Lady Olivia, on her part, left nothing to be 
 desired. She was so full of her own cares and 
 pleasures, that she accepted gratefully whatever 
 time it suited her kind Mr Newbattle to bestow 
 on her, and only thought it too good of him to 
 give so much. 
 
 She would not hear of his putting himself 
 out of his way on her account. She would not 
 expect to see anything of him before three 
 o'clock ; he was always welcome, most welcome, 
 but he was never to feel bound to present him- 
 self in Moray Place. After a short drive — it 
 was never too long — he would be dropped at 
 his club again, where the fine equipage in 
 which his lady sat with her friend as duenna 
 by her side, was as much admired as were her 
 velvet bonnet and her elegant bow. She would 
 lean over the side of the carriage — it was open, 
 and had an ostrich rug, — and exchange part- 
 ing words under the large window wherein the 
 gentlemen stood ; and then she would wave her 
 little hand, and smile, and bend her head as her 
 horses dashed away again. No one could less
 
 MR NEWBATTLE SUCCUMBS TO HIS FATE. 123 
 
 resemble a widow, — she might not be " Miss," 
 but she was certainly not "Mrs ;" and he liked 
 to hear his friends say ^' Lady Olivia." 
 
 Evelyn did not do more for his mother on 
 this occasion than on others ; but he was not 
 needed, and she scolded him quite amicably. 
 Even his absence on her marriage-day was not 
 resented, since, with a tall son of eight-and- 
 twenty at her back, she could hardly have 
 passed as the still moderately young w^oman 
 marrying a man many years her senior w^hich it 
 w^as her desire to do. In reality she was forty- 
 nine, but she hoped to pass for much less. How- 
 ever, even forty-nine, she reflected, thinking of 
 the Dean, and of Mr Maxwell, and the register, 
 — even forty-nine was not fifty, and she need 
 never again be under the necessity of owning 
 even to forty-nine. 
 
 She was in excellent health and looks, and 
 rather expected, in spite of what the Squire 
 must certainly have said about her appearance, 
 to dazzle his daughters, and take their hearts by 
 storm. 
 
 They came, and she it was who was dazzled ; 
 she was so much taken up by them, that she 
 actually forgot herself. Oh, she would have no
 
 124 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 difficulty, no difficulty whatever, in finding hus- 
 bands for such girls. Why had their father not 
 told her what to expect 1 why had he never 
 mentioned that he had such lovely treasures 
 hid 1 Two such pretty creatures (Alice was 
 charmed for once to be bracketed with Kate), 
 — two such, she vowed, she had seldom seen ; 
 while Marjorie was a little angel ; and even 
 Bertha was made happy by hearing that she 
 had something wonderfully piquant and inter- 
 esting in her countenance. 
 
 Before the bride left, she had kissed them all 
 round, and in the plenitude of her satisfaction, 
 had felt as if the only crook in her lot were 
 really about to turn into the blessing she had 
 been determined all along to consider it.
 
 125 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 " I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 
 
 " But to climb steep hills, 
 Kequires slow pace at first." 
 
 — Henri/ VIII. 
 
 But, alas ! a kingdom conquered leaves a king- 
 dom to be ruled ; and Lady Olivia Newbattle, 
 when she presently made her triumphal entry 
 up the long avenue of Carnochan, with flags 
 flying, bells ringing, and tenantry shouting, all 
 in due order, was but little fitted for the post 
 she was so keen to hold. If she had ever con- 
 sulted any one's happiness but her own, it had 
 been that of her first husband; and he had been 
 so long dead, that she had forgotten altogether 
 what putting up with another person's whims, 
 and yielding to his desires, meant. 
 
 She expected to be waited upon when at 
 home — made much of abroad ; and for seven-
 
 126 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and -twenty years her expectations had been 
 fulfilled. 
 
 Servants could not dispute her orders, nor 
 acquaintances pry into and disarrange her daily 
 life. She did what she chose from hour to hour, 
 and passed even to herself as an amiable, good- 
 humoured person. 
 
 But if the old laird of Carnochan had chosen 
 one woman less fitted than another to head a 
 house where commotions were frequent, where 
 Alice had constant mysteries wherewith to vex 
 Kate, and where Marjorie's tyrannies were the 
 theme of Bertha's disregarded complaints, that 
 woman was Lady Olivia. Only the firmest, 
 wisest, gentlest, and most forbearing of step- 
 mothers could have had success; and not a single 
 one of those attributes was possessed by the new 
 mistress of Carnochan. 
 
 Added to which, the bride had been for the 
 last month on a pinnacle of success from which 
 it was scarcely to be expected that she should 
 not some day have a fall. 
 
 All had been too bright, too uniformly glit- 
 tering. She was intoxicated with her triumph, 
 with the delight of finding herself once again 
 capable of inspiring ardour, and with the vista
 
 "l INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 127 
 
 opened up before her by a union in every way 
 so eligible. It was an unfortunate time to take 
 for having her head turned. 
 
 All the weak points of a weak nature showed 
 themselves at once, and in their turn drew forth 
 the worst qualities of her step-daughters. 
 
 Alice had recourse to fibs and petty strata- 
 gems ; Kate openly rebelled ; while the young- 
 er ones sided by turns with each sister, and 
 learned far more than they ought to have done. 
 
 Only a few months had passed ere the whole 
 household was in disturbance ; and how serious 
 was the entanglement, how resolute the com- 
 batants, and what a life poor Mr Newbattle led 
 through it all, may be imagined by any one. 
 
 As regarded external circumstances, however, 
 Lady Olivia had no need to withdraw one iota 
 of her former exultation. 
 
 She had not been deluded by a needy adven- 
 turer deeply in debt, nor the prey of a poor 
 proprietor propping up a rotten estate ; in no 
 single point had the Squire exaggerated the 
 size of his lands, or the extent of his estab- 
 lishment. Carnochan was all that he had de- 
 scribed it. 
 
 Long avenues, shaded by well -grown and
 
 128 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 carefully-preserved trees, led up to the house on 
 either side ; and a shrubbery and lawns, judi- 
 ciously laid out, and in excellent order, further 
 met the eye on first approach: There was also 
 the lake with swans on it, which she had been 
 taught to expect. 
 
 The mansion itself was very old, and to Lady 
 Olivia's eyes the windows were unfortunately 
 small ; but she forgave their not being of greater 
 dimensions when she beheld their number, and 
 reflected that although the front entrance was 
 narrow, it was shaded by a portico. 
 
 Nor was she, on the whole, displeased with 
 the rooms within ; they were long and bare, — 
 she could fill them as full as she chose. 
 
 The great thickness of the walls, however, 
 was what really afi'orded her astonishment and 
 acute delight. 
 
 It was something to be surrounded by walls 
 from six to seven feet in thickness, and soon six 
 and seven feet seemed paltry in her estimation ; 
 by the twentieth letter that she had written on 
 the subject they had grown to twelve, to fifteen, 
 to she really did not like to say what number 
 of feet ! 
 
 Although accustomed to his mother's gran-
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 129 
 
 diloquence, Evelyn was aware that she had 
 usually some basis on which to work, that she 
 was not altogether an originator ; and accord- 
 ingly, on the night he arrived at Carnochan 
 from Castle Kenrick, never having been there 
 before, as the reader wall have already learned, 
 the first thing he did was to investigate its 
 masonry. 
 
 Six months had elapsed since his mother's 
 marriage, but since leave was not desirable until 
 the autumn months made him think of Scotland, 
 he had not seen fit to alter his plans on that 
 account. 
 
 Even then, as we have seen, he had been in 
 no hurry ; but at length, on one of the last days 
 of September, not being able to " do things " at 
 Castle Kenrick, he had bethought him that, 
 after all, since he was expected at Carnochan, 
 " it might be as well not to disappoint 'em." 
 
 He was very well pleased with all he saw as 
 he approached the house ; and as for the walls, 
 he was really surprised to find that his mother 
 had exaggerated so little. It was nothing to add 
 five feet to walls that were already seven ; and 
 although he could not calculate proportions at a 
 first survey, he could perceive that he had never 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 seen anything like them before, and acknow- 
 ledged the fact. 
 
 Mr Newbattle was only too happy to afford 
 him further information ; it was something to 
 talk about ; and whilst thus engaged, no one 
 could find fault with him. 
 
 Before the arrival of his magnificent step- son, 
 he had been tutored to remember this and avoid 
 that, till his original timidity had given place 
 to a sort of nervous terror whenever Captain 
 Evelyn's name was mentioned. 
 
 What if he should bang out with the very 
 thing he had been told to hold his tongue 
 about ? 
 
 What if the subject that he had been ex- 
 pressly forbidden to mention should slip from 
 him unawares, — or if he forgot that which he 
 had been instigated to bring forward '? 
 
 It was with infinite relief that he found him- 
 self, the dreaded introduction over, comfortably 
 talking about windows. His visitor was con- 
 ducted round the room, and made to stand in 
 each recess ; and he was finally lodged in the 
 doorway leading to the library, and told how 
 comical it was that he should be there close to 
 Lady Olivia's chair, and yet be invisible to her.
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 131 
 
 when the door, opened before he had time to 
 escape a smart rap on the shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, that is you, Alice," said Lady Olivia, 
 joining in the laugh graciously. " Come in, 
 my dear. This is Alice, Eupert ; and Alice, 
 this is your big brother. Is that it ? Is he to 
 be allowed to be your brother '? " 
 
 Alice smiled and bridled, feeling sure she had 
 no objection. 
 
 '* And here are the little ones 1 " continued 
 my lady, as the long-legged Bertha and chubby 
 Marjorie followed. " And our only absentee is 
 Kate. She is away on a visit, as it happens. 
 Otherwise we are all here ; and so glad, so very 
 glad, to see you, dear Eupert." 
 
 Evelyn, who was fond of children, would have 
 made friends at once — nothing amused him 
 more than to amuse — but he soon found this 
 was not to be. Directly his mother found that 
 any one was talking but herself, she had a 
 message to be run, or a job to be attended to ; 
 and on the little girls emitting at the same 
 moment one joyful laugh — the cat had jumped 
 over the back of their father's arm-chair — 
 they were summarily packed off to the far 
 end of the room. " Children," said Lady
 
 132 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Olivia, with a sigh, "are always either awk- 
 ward or noisy." 
 
 She then proceeded to what she called a com- 
 fortable chat ; and since she has not before been 
 exhibited in her normal state, we subjoin a 
 sample of her conversation, which will also, 
 perhaps, serve to explain the reason why her 
 society was not of first-rate importance to her son. 
 
 " Do tell me, my dear boy, who you had at 
 Castle Kenrick ? I know you always do manage 
 to fall in with nice people. Who are those 
 Bre wasters ? I don't know the name. And, by 
 the way, did I ever tell you who we came across 
 the only day we were in Paris ? Lord Wey- 
 burn. So very strange, was it not ? And he 
 was really most friendly, quite affectionate ; his 
 mother, you remember, had been so charmed to 
 meet me again at the Anthony-Burnett's last 
 autumn. She had told him all about it. You 
 recollect Lady Weyburn ? Do you not 1 Oh 
 yes, I know you do, my dear, for it was at Sir 
 James Thornton's that she told me she had seen 
 you. Don't you remember '? " 
 
 " Well, yes," said Evelyn ; " I daresay I do." 
 He had just contrived to hide a yawn behind 
 the fingers which pulled his long moustache.
 
 "l INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 133 
 
 and daresayed he remembered Lady Weyburn 
 to hide the achievement. 
 
 " Lord Weyburn, the father, was quite a 
 friend of your father, when they were young 
 men together. His sister married a Colonel 
 Jenkynson, — really good Jenkynsons, though it 
 is such a name — when you spell it with a ' y ' 
 it does not look so bad, — and he was a man of 
 large fortune, and member for the county. I 
 will tell you who he was connected with — the 
 Lotteringham family. Either his sister married 
 Lord Lotteringham, or Lord Lotteringham was 
 his wife's brother — I forget which ; but one 
 way or other, he and Colonel Jenkynson were 
 brothers-in-law. " 
 
 " Oh yes." (How his mother did bother about 
 people.) For his part, Evelyn felt that he would 
 have liked to have had a word or two from the 
 pretty, demure-looking Alice, who sat so modestly 
 by with her hands folded, or to have made his 
 way to the corner and played tricks with the 
 young ones : and to be sure, it would have been 
 only decent manners to have included some of 
 the Newbattle family in what was going on ; the 
 old gentleman, or the girls, should not have been 
 altogether excluded. But Lady Olivia's manners
 
 134 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 were too good for home consumption, and she 
 disregarded his inattention and short replies 
 quite as much on this occasion as she had ever 
 done before. 
 
 " Well, but now, Eupert, tell me all that you 
 have been doing, and what places you have been 
 to ? You come from Castle Ken rick ; that I 
 know. Before you went there, you were at 
 Seamount : I must hear about Seamount first. 
 Was dear Mary Pelly there ? " 
 
 " Is she not always there '? " 
 
 " Well, but did you have any chat with her ? 
 AYas she friendly ? Was she well '? Did she 
 send any messages ? " 
 
 " Not that I am aware of." 
 
 ''- Was Lady Seamount at home ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 '' And the sons ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I always think they are such nice young 
 men." 
 
 " Oh '? " ("Nice young scamps.") Evelyn put 
 out his lips, and the above passed through his 
 mind, but where was the use of saying it '? 
 
 *' Henry Waters was there, with his wife," he 
 said, aloud.
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY.'* 135 
 
 " Ah," rejoined his mother, " what a sad match 
 that was ! I never could bear the thought of 
 that Henry Waters getting my charming Ger- 
 trude. I wonder her parents allowed it." 
 
 " Come now," said Evelyn, with more anima- 
 tion than he had hitherto evinced ; "I don't 
 agree with you at all. Henry Waters is the 
 best of the whole bunch, to my mind." 
 
 " Of his whole bunch, I daresay. But we 
 were talking of the Seamounts. To marry into 
 such a family — with such connections, and Ger- 
 trude having her own fortune besides — it was 
 what he ought never to have presumed to 
 aspire to." 
 
 " He is worth them all put together." 
 
 " My dear Eupert ! " 
 
 " Of course he is. I know. He is as good 
 a fellow as ever lived ; while the Seamount 
 men " a laugh supplied the rest. 
 
 " I had no idea they were anything but 
 what was proper, I am sure," asserted Lady 
 Olivia, dropping her eyes. " Of course I can- 
 not judge. I cannot see young men when 
 they are by themselves. But I did grudge 
 
 Gertrude. Now if it had been you " in a 
 
 lower key.
 
 136 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 '* Oho, ma'am ! sits the wind in that quarter ? 
 No, trust me, I was never in the lists even." 
 
 " Well, but you have been at other places. 
 Is there no one — eh ? " 
 
 '* Not a soul." 
 
 " You have heard of Mrs Beaumont's affair ? " 
 
 " And of nothing else." 
 
 " Shocking, was it not ? And the Harvey s, 
 what are they about ? " 
 
 *' I have no notion." 
 
 *'The Delanes and Stirlings sent me such 
 beautiful presents. I had hoped to have had 
 some of them to meet you this week — some of 
 the Delanes, I mean ; for the Stirlings, though 
 very good sort of people, are not quite — quite 
 — they are people of no family whatever, you 
 know." 
 
 " Why, you used to be always with them." 
 
 But for this so many excellent reasons were 
 adduced, and he was so earnestly assured that 
 the friends in question had never been admitted 
 to any intimacy, — that there had never been 
 anything to warrant their expecting to be 
 made welcome to Carnochan, — that it would be 
 unfair to her new neighbours to present those 
 as specimens of Lady Olivia's connections and
 
 ''I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 137 
 
 acquaintance, — rtliat even his long-suffering gave 
 way, and he stole a sly look at his watch. 
 
 The evenings at Castle Kenrick, with their 
 solitary recreation — their inevitable billiards — 
 seemed lively as compared to making one of the 
 formal circle at Carnochan while Lady Olivia 
 talked. 
 
 Nevertheless, as days passed on, and visitors 
 came and went, the new surroundings, with 
 their attendant chain of fresh ideas and inter- 
 ests, succeeded in some measure in chasing his 
 recent adventure out of Evelyn^s head. 
 
 Now that he was absolutely at Carnochan 
 House, he was not insensible to the fact of it 
 being his mother's home : the girls were all 
 ready and willing to be made friends with ; nor 
 was Mr Newbattle, although reserved in manner 
 and peculiar in his habits, an altogether uninter- 
 esting study. When encouraged, and taken in 
 the right way, and at the right time, he had 
 plenty to tell ; and the subjects he could con- 
 verse upon were infinitely more to his visitor's 
 taste than was the tasteless prattle of Lady 
 Olivia. Tales of poaching frays, of neighbours' 
 exploits, of the odd w^ays and humours of the 
 country people, together with reminiscences of
 
 138 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 his young days, which had lain fallow in his 
 mind for twenty years, but which were now 
 brought forth to entertain his step-son, were 
 sufficiently worth listening to. 
 
 The house also was curious, and the histories 
 of its tapestry, armour, and pictures whiled away 
 odd hours. 
 
 He had not forgotten his dark-eyed incognita, 
 nor his intentions of going back some time soon 
 to see what she would say to such a return ; 
 but since he was but thirty miles off, and since 
 he could go any day, he was content to wait for 
 the day to be a convenient one. 
 
 Just at first his injured hand prevented his 
 shooting and fishing, but even then he could 
 examine the kennels and talk to the keepers. 
 Afterwards he had pretty fair sport, and a good 
 piece of ground to shoot over. As long as he 
 could get away from Lady Olivia, in short, he 
 was quite at his ease ; and there being a party 
 in the house, made up expressly on his account, 
 during the next fortnight, she could be dodged 
 successfully : but the very first morning after 
 their departure, he was unlucky enough to be 
 caught and pinned to her apron-string. 
 
 " My dearest boy, do come here and sit down.
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 139 
 
 I have seen nothing of you for the last ten days, 
 positively nothing. Those people who are gone, 
 quite usurped you. Now let us sit down to- 
 gether, just you and I alone, and have our nice 
 talks as we used to do. First of all, my dear 
 Eupert, you have never told me what you think 
 of my new connections. You cannot fail to 
 like Mr Newbattle, I am sure," — she was in 
 excellent humour that morning — " and — and — 
 and — what do you think of his daughters ? " 
 
 *' Alice is very pretty." 
 
 *' Pretty 1 you think she is pretty 1 I am 
 glad of that. That was one thino; I wished to 
 know. She is not particularly amiable " 
 
 " Is she not ? " 
 
 " By no means. Indeed I can assure you — 
 but perhaps I ought not to prejudice you, a 
 stranger ; and I am so anxious that you should 
 like her, should like them all — but really " 
 
 " Oh, well, never mind." 
 
 '' It is her deceitfulness," burst forth Lady 
 Olivia, unable not to mind, and resolved to have 
 it out too. " She is the slyest creature in the 
 whole world, I believe. You have no idea, and 
 you would not believe it if I were to tell you, 
 the things that girl is capable of doing."
 
 140 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 "I see you and she do not hit it off." 
 
 " No, I should hope not. I must tell you 
 one thing she did lately. We were to dine at 
 the Pophams, — old-fashioned people, but of high 
 standing — the first people in the neighbourhood, 
 in short. Well, Alice had not been asked, natur- 
 ally ; but she slipped over there by herself the day 
 before, with a geranium-cutting — fancy taking 
 a geranium-cutting to a place where they keep 
 ten gardeners ! — and actually she manoeuvred 
 herself into an invitation. She never told any 
 one of her intentions, and I am convinced she 
 was not wanted — the table would have been 
 quite full without her ; but Mrs Popham is an 
 easy woman, and allowed herself to be blind- 
 folded. I call it a most underhand trick ; the 
 whole thing was unworthy of Mr Newbattle's 
 daughter." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Evelyn, in whose eyes the 
 offence was rather a joke than otherwise. But 
 when he had said " Oh, well," he could not, for 
 the life of him, think of an excuse. , 
 
 " And the little ones — or at least Bertha 
 is quite as absurd," continued Lady Olivia. 
 " Have you noticed that oblique cast in her 
 eye ? It gives her a most unpleasant expres-
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 141 
 
 sion " (it was no. longer piquant and interesting). 
 *' She ought to be at a good school, if I could 
 persuade myself to send any girl to school. I 
 have got them an excellent governess, as you 
 see ; she is greedy and selfish, but she had 
 first-rate recommendations, and I believe she 
 does know how to teach. I have done all 
 for the children that I can, I am sure," with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " Well, and I am sure, ma'am, they — they are 
 obliged to you," looking about to escape. 
 
 *' I don't know about that. Eegarding this 
 very governess, we had the most absurd fuss. 
 The girls had found one for themselves — for 
 Bertha and Marjorie, I mean — without con- 
 sulting anybody ; and such a creature as they 
 had got 1 Quite a low person, quite gross in her 
 speech and common in her manners ! It was 
 not her fault, you will say 1 Certainly not, but 
 it was a very great fault the way Kate behaved 
 about it all. However, I have no wish to trouble 
 you with family matters." 
 
 " By the way, where is Kate ? " 
 
 " She — well — she is away from home at pre- 
 sent, as you know. The fact is," continued 
 Lady Olivia, waxing confidential, '' that Kate, —
 
 142 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 she is by far the handsomest and most distin- 
 guished-looking of them all, my dear Rupert, — 
 but she is a most unmanageable and — and — and 
 altogether impertinent girl. We had no peace, 
 no quiet, no proper rule or order, as long as she 
 was here ; and about this matter of changing 
 the governess, she actually disobeyed her father, 
 and defied me ! " 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 *^ She was as stubborn as a mule; and since 
 she was not to be won over, her father was 
 obliged to — to send her away ; and she is with 
 that very person now. It is only for a time — 
 only till Mademoiselle Pierrepoint has got her- 
 self fairly established here ; for had the younger 
 ones had Kate to fall back upon, they would 
 never have owned any authority. Oh, you can 
 have no idea how wild and unruly that girl 
 was ! " 
 
 " So that was it ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; she stirred up everything that she 
 thought would undermine my supremacy, and 
 no one could do anything with her but that 
 Miss Comline " 
 
 '' Miss Comline ! " said Evelyn, with a start. 
 
 " The children have talked to you about her,
 
 "I INTEND TO DO MY DUTY." 143 
 
 I suppose. The foolish, headstrong girl took it 
 into her head that Miss Comline was ill-used : 
 it was the greatest nonsense, for I never ill-used 
 anybody in my life ; but she quite raved when 
 she heard what I had done. I had merely 
 written to Miss Comline privately, when she 
 was at home for her holidays last month, that 
 she was not the sort of person wanted for the 
 Miss Newbattles, and that it was a mistake 
 altogether her ever having been here. Could 
 anything have been kinder ? I only said it was 
 a mistake — I never hinted that it was any fault 
 of hers or of theirs. Miss Comline did not 
 object to what was done, I am sure. She made 
 no reply, and her father came to take away her 
 things. We should have had no scene, no dis- 
 turbance about the matter, but for Kate, with 
 her ridiculously-overstrung notions. She would 
 see the man himself, and — but it is no use going 
 over it all again." 
 
 " How long ago," said Evelyn, slowly, " was 
 this?" 
 
 " About a month. I put up with it as long 
 as I could — I did indeed," catching sight of her 
 son's face. " Indeed, my dear Eupert, it is all 
 very well for those who have never been in a
 
 144 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 step-mother's place to think it is an easy one. 
 
 That, it is not. It " 
 
 " And how long is Kate to stay away 1 " 
 '' That depends entirely on herself. She can 
 return any day she likes by choosing to submit 
 to me — to us, I mean — and own that she was in 
 the wrong. In that case I should counsel her 
 father to receive her back ; but otherwise," very 
 decidedly, " I certainly shall not. I intend to 
 do my duty, and it is no duty of mine to en- 
 courage insubordination and disorder. We get 
 on now very fairly ; and by-and-by, we shall do 
 still better. Oh, it really was a blessing to get 
 Kate out of the house ! " 
 
 '' So that was Kate," said her son to himself, 
 meditating. '^ Poor Kate ! "
 
 145 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 
 
 " Weak and irresolute is Man, 
 The purpose of to-day- 
 Woven with pains into his plan- 
 To-morrow rends away." 
 
 — COWPER. 
 
 Poor Kate's handkerchief lay in his drawer up- 
 stairs ; and, truth to tell, he had been thinking 
 daily less and less about it. 
 
 He had thrust it into an empty place on first 
 unwinding it from his hand, — waiting, as he 
 believed, for an opportunity to have it washed 
 without remark ; but either the opportunity had 
 not come, or he had forgotten to embrace it. 
 
 Not that Evelyn was by nature inconstant ; 
 he was only young, light-hearted, and prosper- 
 ous. Pleasant things happened to him every 
 day, and he found almost everybody nice, and 
 quite everybody kind. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He met so many people. 
 
 At every place he went to, lie converted 
 strangers into acquaintances, and acquaintances 
 speedily ripened into friends. Invitations poured 
 in upon him from all manner and conditions of 
 men, and the letters awaiting his arrival at Car- 
 nochan amounted to a perfect pile. 
 
 Lady Olivia, indeed, could not conjecture how 
 there came to be so many, since to her it had 
 been expressly stated that her son was unable to 
 give any addresses. She seemed to be the only 
 person thus cut off from communication, and 
 she eyed the army of envelopes dubiously. 
 
 Nor did she do so altogether without a cause, 
 for Evelyn was an excellent letter- writer ; and 
 though he did not often sit down to the desk, 
 when he did, he could dash off a dozen notes 
 in an hour. Besides which, he was a sociable 
 fellow, who liked to be en rapport with heaps of 
 people, provided only they were good-humoured 
 and hearty, and had, as he would say, no non- 
 sense about them. 
 
 But, unfortunately, nonsense of the kind he 
 meant was precisely what his mother was full 
 of; and more, what she set a high value upon. 
 She could not forgive people who were simple
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 147 
 
 enough to dislike hearing their family pedigree 
 descanted upon ; and not to set store by every 
 eligible connection, not to make the most of 
 every visit paid to houses of note, as well as of 
 every distinguished personage met there, was, 
 in her eyes, a proof of ignorance and folly. 
 
 She wondered sometimes why her son bit his 
 lip. He could not bring himself to pander to 
 such a taste ; and when conversation wound 
 round to the strain Lady Olivia loved, he bore 
 as little part in it as ever he could. 
 
 In short, Evelyn was ashamed of his parent ; 
 and though he was perhaps unaware of the 
 fact himself, there was scarcely a person he had 
 ever known whom he could not get on with 
 better. 
 
 He felt instinctively that a large amount of 
 the attention she bestowed on him was due to 
 his position and means, that her affection was 
 begotten less of maternal instinct than of pride 
 and vanity, and that she spoke of him in a 
 manner that too frequently was humiliating and 
 ridiculous. To be hawked about in her train, 
 to be made to dance to her piping, put forward, 
 bragged of, and puffed off here, there, and every- 
 where, he had early seen would be intolerable ;
 
 148 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and, while yet a schoolboy, he had declined the 
 position. 
 
 It followed that she was afraid of him, and 
 more solicitous about his good opinion than of 
 that of all the rest of the world put together. 
 With a considerable amount of trouble and 
 forethought, she had got together at Carnochan 
 people whom she was aware he would consider 
 were of the right sort ; and although she might 
 complain that they had usurped her darling 
 during their stay, she was in secret delighted 
 to reflect that all had passed off so well. 
 
 Had she known how much their presence had 
 done towards weakening in Evelyn's mind the 
 recollection of the episode which had made such 
 an impression on him previous to his arrival, 
 she would have been still better pleased. As it 
 was, now that the house was again empty, she 
 could not have chosen a worse time unwittingly 
 to unravel his secret. 
 
 All his former interest in it returned directly 
 in full force, and the impulse of a frank, out- 
 spoken disposition was at once to relate his ad- 
 venture, and smile over the coincidence. 
 
 It was the length of Lady Olivia's tongue 
 which alone stopped the disclosure. He had a
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 149 
 
 moment for reflection, and in that moment's 
 interval there rose before him a vision of two 
 dark wet eyes shining like stars as he met 
 their full, imploring gaze, and there sounded 
 again in his ears those softly-spoken, yet most 
 sorrowful words, which had seemed so strange 
 in the mouth of one so young, — and all at once 
 he understood. 
 
 Her shame and mortification at being found 
 by him, by Lady Olivia's son, her new brother 
 after a fashion, in all the disgrace of a naughty 
 child, who has been turned out of the room, and 
 is discovered hanging about upon the stairs out- 
 side, must have been at the root of those sullen 
 looks. 
 
 So that was why she had tried to pass un- 
 detected, and had shunned his presence and 
 inquiries ? 
 
 That was the reason why she had been afraid 
 even to speak ? It was for fear of letting ou<J^ 
 her little twopenny-halfpenny secret ? He had 
 thought something much more lay beneath. It 
 was di. fiasco, the whole thing. However, since it 
 had been no joke to her, — and since, after all, 
 childish griefs are as great to the childish soul 
 as those in after-life are to the mature, — he
 
 150 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 must be careful not to do nor say anything to 
 increase the discomfort of her situation. He was 
 partly entertained, and just a little bit let down. 
 
 It was certainly droll to find himself listening 
 to Lady Olivia's version of the story, with the 
 consciousness that he knew a great deal more 
 of the matter than her ladyship had any idea of ; 
 but he felt the tameness of her explanation 
 severely. 
 
 Another point was also cleared up. He knew 
 now of whom he was every now and then re- 
 minded by Alice. There was no more than the 
 most general family resemblance between the 
 sisters ; but occasionally a movement or an ex- 
 pression escaped which it had bothered Evelyn's 
 wits to think where or when he had observed 
 before. 
 
 All of this he had to meditate upon while his 
 mother was talking ; and the upshot was resolu- 
 tion to hold his tongue, until he had further 
 spied out the land. 
 
 After all, it was not the handkerchief which 
 had led to her detection. 
 
 Had he been on the right trail by other means, 
 C. N. might have clinched the matter ; but until 
 the name of Miss Comline fell from Lady Olivia's
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 151 
 
 lips, he was not aware that he had suspected 
 anything. 
 
 It is probable, however, that one trifling inci- 
 dent and another had prepared his mind for the 
 discovery. The farmer s reticence about Carno- 
 chan — the spurious likeness between the sisters 
 — a dozen minor details, — had all led to the 
 same point; so that, when his mother's com- 
 ment on the unsuitability of the children's 
 governess for her position recalled to his mind 
 what he had thought on the same subject at the 
 Muirland Farm — what he had mentally observed 
 on worthy Mrs Comline's informing him of her 
 daughter's holding such a post, — he was ripe for 
 hearing, and the next moment brought convic- 
 tion. He did not suspect, he knew that he had 
 got hold of the truth. 
 
 For some time after she had done with Kate, 
 Lady Olivia prosed peacefully on, and she 
 thought her son remarkably patient and pleas- 
 ant that day. 
 
 He heard her out, which he did not often do. 
 He let her flit on from theme to theme, mash 
 up whole cartloads of exalted names, and work 
 upon such outer rind of the gossip of society as 
 she loved to peck at, sans interruption or yawns.
 
 152 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 He did not appear to listen, but he picked a 
 blue tassel to pieces as if it interested him. 
 
 She felt all the glow of gratified maternity as 
 she looked across the rug, and saw him still 
 there at the end of two hours, when pretty 
 Alice came in to whisper her hope that brother 
 Eupert would not think it too great a plague to 
 be called upon to take the ride he had promised. 
 
 " So soon *? " exclaimed Lady Olivia. But of 
 course the young lady, who looked resigned, 
 and said nothing, gained her point. Eupert 
 would have gone if Marjorie had asked him to 
 mount the dun cow ; but when to his readiness 
 to oblige was added his desire to escape, he 
 could spring to his feet with alacrity. 
 
 "You must really not tease your brother, 
 unless he likes to go," observed the fond parent, 
 in some displeasure : she made rather a point of 
 saying "your brother," since, albeit she would 
 have dearly liked to have kept her precious son 
 all to herself, and permitted the Newbattle fac- 
 tion neither part nor lot in the matter, prudence 
 suggested so strongly the expediency of there 
 being no notion on either side of any tie of 
 another nature ever being formed, that "bro- 
 ther " and " sisters," she felt, had best be estab-
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 153 
 
 lished from the beginning. She thought herself 
 sly and clever ; and to avoid confusion, since 
 the term was adopted universally, we shall use 
 it also. 
 
 He was to be ''^ Eupert " to them all, at once ; 
 and though Alice had tried to be shy and blush- 
 ing, and Marjorie to be mischievous, the arrange- 
 ment had been taken so much as a matter of 
 course by the good-natured young man himself, 
 that nothing more could be made of it. 
 
 *' But are you quite sure that he cares to ride 
 to-day '? " persisted Lady Olivia, one of whose 
 ways it was to imagine that her darling could 
 not possibly speak for himself " You should 
 not worry about a thing, Alice. It is for Eupert 
 to decide, not for you. He may prefer the boat, 
 or a drive with me, or a walk with your father." 
 
 " Or a seat on an elephant^s back," added 
 Eupert. " There is every variety of entertain- 
 ment, isn't there, Alice ? Well, come along." 
 
 "You might have let him alone a little long- 
 er," proceeded Lady Olivia, with her eyes now 
 lovingly bent on the figure before her, now 
 reproachfully turned on the one at her side. 
 "You should not be so insisting, my dear; it 
 is not well-bred. We were very comfortable
 
 154 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 together." " Poor dear ! " she murmured, as the 
 door closed behind the pair ; '' he is at the mercy 
 of every one of them : he gets no peace. I am 
 glad, however," reflectively, ," that he thinks 
 Alice is pretty. He is a good judge. What if 
 he saw Kate ! " 
 
 " Alice," said her companion, as they dropped 
 their horses to a walk after a long canter by the 
 river's brink, '^ don't you miss your sister Kate 
 very much ? I suppose you and she are all in 
 all to each other, eh '? " 
 
 "I am more than a year older, you know." 
 
 *' I know. Does that include a great deal ? " 
 
 '* And — and I don't think we are very much 
 alike in our ways, and — and tastes." 
 
 *' You are not alike in appearance, — at least, 
 to judge from photographs." 
 
 "Are we not? But we have only such a 
 very ancient photograph of Kate, that you would 
 never guess who it was meant for if you knew 
 her." 
 
 (Indeed he had not, or his mystery would 
 have been solved long before that morning.) 
 
 *' Some people think we are very like indeed," 
 continued Alice. " Of course Kate is darker. 
 But they say that that is the only difference."
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 155 
 
 " Oh." 
 
 " We are not at all alike in other respects, — 
 at least not so much as most sisters are. But, of 
 course, I do miss dear Kate," she added, patheti- 
 cally. 
 
 "The others are so much beneath you both/' 
 observed Evelyn, " that I thought probably 
 you were great friends, and had everything in 
 common." 
 
 "But Kate seems nearer to them than she 
 does to me. She does not care for things that 
 grown-up people like. I really don't know what 
 is to be done with her when it comes to be 
 her turn to go into the world, for she cares 
 for nothing at present but burrowing in the 
 library for old books, and spouting poetry in 
 the dark ! " 
 
 Evelyn laughed. 
 
 **When we tell her not to be ridiculous," 
 continued Alice, " she gets very indignant. It 
 is really ludicrous to see how she takes things 
 to heart; and you have to be so careful — of 
 course I would not say it to any one but you, 
 — but she has such a shocking temper. Oh, 
 pray don't say that I told you. What made 
 me say it ? I am so provoked with myself.
 
 156 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 It slipped out before I knew. I am so sorry 
 I told you." 
 
 '' No need," said her brother, drily ; " I had 
 heard all about it before. . My mother has 
 warned me of Kate's infirmity, and even the 
 young ones speak of it with awe. Why should 
 you be more reticent ? " 
 
 " I was afraid you would think " 
 
 " That it has been exaggerated. '? " 
 
 This was not the meaning of her pause ; she 
 had been afraid that he would think amiss of 
 her for adding her voice to that of the others ; 
 but she was too quick not to catch at the right 
 thing to say, and her '^ yes " lay so ready on her 
 lips, that it was in use almost before she was 
 aware. 
 
 *' Yes, indeed. I am so afraid you will think 
 we all make too much of poor dear Kate's un — 
 
 un — unfortunate it is such a pity for her 
 
 own sake, you know. And of course we are 
 all as fond of her as ever we can be. You are 
 not to suppose she is not a dear good thing, — 
 and so generous, she gives away everything 
 she has : the children can get anything they 
 want out of Kate when she is in a good mind, 
 but "
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIKD. 157 
 
 '' But her good mind is sometimes absent on 
 leave." 
 
 " Absent on leave ? " Alice stared a little. 
 
 " I mean, she occasionally does not know 
 where to look for it. Marjorie seems fond of 
 her, however.'' 
 
 '' Oh, Marjorie. But Marjorie will run after 
 anybody who takes notice of her. Kate made 
 a fuss with the child, and she used to get all 
 Kate's nice things — her album, and her glove- 
 boxes, and anything she chose to take a fancy 
 to. Kate is quite silly in that way — she can 
 never keep anything for herself." 
 
 '^ I am sorry for Kate," said Evelyn, as if to 
 himself " She can t be very happy, I should 
 say." 
 
 " No ; that is what we all tell her. Of course, 
 when papa married again " 
 
 ^^ All right. Goon." 
 
 " Naturally none of us liked it," continued 
 Alice, encouraged by his smile. " We had all 
 to — to make the best of things. But that was 
 just what Kate would not do. She frets her- 
 self about every trifle, and even about the lit- 
 tle commonplace conventionalities of society," 
 with an air caught from her step -mother.
 
 158 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 "You know it is really ridiculous. She only 
 wants a pair of spectacles to be a regular old 
 maid." 
 
 " I thought I understood that she only wanted 
 short frocks to be a regular baby.'' 
 
 " I declare," said Alice, laughing, " I don't 
 know which it is. She provokes one both 
 ways." 
 
 "Does she mind much," said Evelyn, slowly, 
 " being kept away at Miss Comline's ? " 
 
 " Oh, you have been told about that ? Kate 
 was really in the right, to begin with. You 
 must not mind my saying so, for Miss Comlina 
 was extremely nice, and the children were so 
 fond of her, that we all " 
 
 " Yes, I understand." 
 
 " So now that she is there, at Miss Comline's 
 home, what more can she want 1 They can read 
 Schiller and Moliere all day long together, with 
 no one to interfere ; and Kate likes to be let 
 alone, and she likes Miss Comline." 
 
 " You are rather confused, all the same," re- 
 flected her brother. " You know very well it 
 is difficult to put a good face upon the matter. 
 And so Kate is at a farm ? " he said aloud. 
 
 " Hardly a farm. It is a delightful, old-
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 159 
 
 fashioned, retired country-house. There is a 
 farmyard certainly, and — and " 
 
 (" Spare yourself the trouble of describing 
 it," said Evelyn, mentally. " I have seen the 
 place, and it is very much of a farm, I should 
 say. This girl grows amusing. I must lead 
 her on a little.'') "It is a country-house, is it? 
 A fine old castle, I daresay. She will have 
 shady avenues to roam about in, as well as the 
 correct haunted chamber wherein to spout her 
 poetry in the dark ? " 
 
 Nothing was denied, and every other suppo- 
 sition he chose to make further, was likewise 
 assented to. '' Indeed, I am quite certain that 
 poor Kate is as happy with them as she would 
 be anywhere," was the conclusion of the subject 
 on her sister's part. 
 
 Evelyn's was different. 
 
 " I shall go and see that poor girl at once. I 
 shall see what can be done towards putting her 
 in her proper place again, even though she has 
 cheated me out of more sympathy than was her 
 due, and even although it will close forthwith 
 my little romance. I quite believe she is a bit 
 of a vixen, but I like her none the less for that ; 
 and, vixen or not, it is a deuced shame to treat
 
 160 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEES. 
 
 her so badlv. What a business it is when a lot 
 of women get together ! Nothing but mewing 
 and scratching, — especially behind backs. Men 
 don't do that sort of thing — they let each other 
 alone ; and a good thing they do, or there'd be 
 the devil to pay." 
 
 Marjorie was the next to add her quota to 
 the information which now seemed to be poured 
 in upon Evelyn from all sides. She was run- 
 ning about the garden when the riders re- 
 turned, and immediately set up her claim to 
 Brother Rupert : he had promised, it appeared, 
 to go and see her own little garden, and now he 
 had to fulfil the agreement, it not being so easy 
 at Carnochan, as at some places, to promise and 
 have done with the matter. 
 
 The flower - beds, through which the two 
 strolled, were still gay; and as Evelyn en- 
 joyed his afternoon pipe, he proposed to the 
 little one that she should gather a bouquet, but 
 was met by a look of delighted astonishment 
 which was incomprehensible. 
 
 "Well," he said, ^^why not?" 
 
 "Oh, if you tell me to do it, nobody can 
 scold me," replied the child, joyfully; "but 
 remember, Brother Rupert, that you told
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. ICl 
 
 me; because if . not, mamma" — she was the 
 only one who said " mamma " — " oh, she 
 would be as angry with me as she was with 
 Kate." 
 
 '' Why was she angry with Kate ? " 
 " It was on that tree there was a rose," said 
 Marjorie, solemnly, "and mamma said nobody 
 was to touch it, because she wanted the rose 
 all for herself ; and when Kate heard it, she was 
 in such a passion — oh, she was in a passion ! 
 — and she went and picked the rose that very 
 minute, and came down to dinner with it in her 
 frock ! Wasn't it naughty '? " 
 She received no answer. 
 
 "Oh, I say, Brother Rupert, you're smiling ! " 
 
 "Smiling? Nonsense, Marjorie! I could 
 
 not have been smiling. You could not see 
 
 my face behind the smoke, and so you made 
 
 a mistake." 
 
 " I thought you were smiling," said Maidie, 
 nestling her hand into his, — she had pretty 
 little ways that took with people wonderfully. 
 '^ I thought you were smiling at what Kate did. 
 But when mamma was angry, Kate told her 
 that it was our garden, and our flowers, and that 
 we had a great deal more right to them than 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEES. 
 
 anybody else had. Kate really and truly did 
 say that, Brother Eupert." 
 
 " Did she indeed, Madge — really and truly ? " 
 
 '' Oh, but we are going past the beds, and 
 you said I might get some flowers ? " 
 
 " Aren't there some out of sight of the house 
 which you may gather quietly, and nobody be 
 the wiser ? " suggested Evelyn, not inclined to 
 disappoint the child, but willing also to avoid 
 getting into trouble. " If Lady Olivia objects to 
 your gathering the flowers, it would be better to 
 keep it dark, eh ? Come along, and let us find 
 a snug corner where we shan't be seen, and 
 may get as many as we please. As Kate says, 
 they are your own, and it is hard to put a 
 stopper on your having them. We'll take 'em 
 on the sly, that's all." 
 
 '' I wouldn't touch one if I were to take it on 
 the sly," retorted Marjorie, putting her hands 
 behind her. " Oh, you naughty boy ! Kate 
 would be angry if she heard you. She never 
 took a single thing that mamma did not know 
 of; and she would not let us, neither. Alice 
 does : Alice takes them up to her room." 
 
 ''Well, well," replied her brother, somewhat 
 disconcerted in spite of himself. " We won't
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 163 
 
 disobey this all - powerful Kate, then. She 
 seems to have some good points — eh, Madgey ? 
 She has taught you to be all fair and above- 
 board, anyway." 
 
 "I wish Kate was here," replied Marjorie, 
 thoughtfully. " She will never see you at all 
 if she does not come soon." 
 
 " I don't suppose she cares about that." 
 
 " She does care ; and I'll tell you how I know. 
 She was so fond of Uncle George — Uncle 
 George that died a little while ago, — and when 
 she saw your picture unpacked, and hung up 
 in the drawing-room — you know where — I saw 
 her go and look at it for ever so long, and 
 then she said to herself, ' It is just like Uncle 
 George.'" 
 
 " Perhaps if she saw me instead of the picture 
 though, she would find she had made a mistake, 
 and that would be a pity. I daresay I myself 
 am not like Uncle George at all, eh 'i " 
 
 " But you are," persisted the little chatterer ; 
 " you are just nice, and funny, and good-natured 
 like him ; and you make things for us the way he 
 used to do. And besides, you have got a mous- 
 tache. Before Kate went away, she told me 
 that the only thing she cared about was leav-
 
 164 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ing me behind, and that she would not see 
 you." 
 
 " Did Kate — ah — cry when she went away ? " 
 
 *^ Oh no, she did not care a hit." 
 
 'Tm sure she did care/' said Evelyn, and 
 stoj)ped short, feeling foolish. 
 
 " Well, I don't believe she did, for she would 
 not say * good-bye ' to papa, or any one ; and she 
 never came near the schoolroom. Mademoiselle 
 was asleep, but we would have wakened her up. 
 I say, can you kiss the wall backwards 1 " in- 
 quired Maidie, suddenly. 
 
 "Not that I know of. I daresay I could if 
 I tried, though." 
 
 ^' Well, Miss Comline couldn't ; and neither 
 can Mademoiselle, nor Alice, nor any one of us, 
 but just Kate. She stands with her back to 
 the wall, a little way off it, so" — suiting the 
 action to the word, — " and bends down her back, 
 down, down, down, till her nose rubs it first — 
 and that's all Alice can do ; but Kate goes 
 downer, oh, ever so much downer than Alice, 
 and at last she gets lier mouth quite close up, 
 and kisses it. And then we, that's Bertha and 
 me, clap our hands." 
 
 " How on earth did you say she does it ? "
 
 OUT OF SIGHT IS OUT OF MIND. 165 
 
 inquired Evelyn, turning round, and trying 
 himself. " Eh ! — woa ! Stop ! — I can't get 
 down at all. Now look out, we'll try again. 
 Keep away from me, Madge ; don't touch me — 
 look out — don't come near me — there — by Jove, 
 
 1 canH go any lower " 
 
 " Oh, you're not near it at all," screeched 
 
 Marjorie, in ecstasies. " And you mustn't poke 
 out your knees like that ! That's not the way 
 Kate does at all. She just goes down, down, 
 down " 
 
 " It's all very fine to say ' down, down, 
 down,'^that won't make you^o down ! Kate 
 must be made of india-rubber. Well, there's no 
 use trying, for mortal man can't do it, though 
 woman may. Come along, you little piece of 
 mischief, — how dare you presume to make game 
 of your betters ? I shan't come near you again 
 for ever so long, if you behave like that." 
 
 " Oh, if you only saw Kate do it ! " 
 
 " And I'll be hanged if I don't see Kate do it,, 
 and that before many days are over." 
 
 Such was Evelyn's final resolution, — although, 
 as may be imagined, he kept it to himself.
 
 PART III.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 
 
 " An unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised, 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old Init she may learn. " 
 
 — Merchant of Venice. 
 
 One absurd perplexity detained our hero a 
 whole day from accomplishing his purpose — he 
 could not, by any possibility, now get the soiled 
 handkerchief washed : he did not like taking it 
 as it was ; and he durst not leave it behind. 
 
 At length he laughed at himself, and con- 
 cluded to trust to the good offices of the farmer's 
 wife. That point settled, he announced the next 
 morning at breakfast that he proposed taking a 
 short fishing-run to the western shores of Gallo- 
 way, and that, if he could have a dog-cart to 
 take him a dozen miles or so, he should start 
 that day. Of course he could have the dog-
 
 170 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 cart ; and how about his letters ? If Lady 
 Olivia could not fidget about her own letters, 
 she longed to do so about those of other people. 
 In this instance the disappointment of not being 
 permitted to forward any was only mitigated 
 by the pledge of a speedy return which such a 
 restriction seemed to give. Rupert could not 
 certainly intend to be long away from his letters, 
 however much he might be tempted to give her 
 and Carnochan the slip ; and accordingly, he 
 was allowed to depart in peace, and without 
 more parade and commotion than he must have 
 known beforehand to be inevitable. 
 
 How he did wish his mother would sometimes 
 let him alone ! Bustle and attentions, such as 
 Lady Olivia delighted in, were revolting to her 
 son. He hated being interrogated ; he could 
 not endure being stood aside for, and run about 
 for, and arranged for. Being tied down to do 
 this and that at a fixed date, and in a fixed 
 placed, was abomination : if he were forced to 
 name beforehand a day or an hour to be set 
 aside for a set purpose, the very fact of his 
 having done so would then and there awake in 
 his bosom a raging desire to cheat the appointed 
 time of its prey ; and directly he felt bound to
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. I7l 
 
 go through with a matter, however much it 
 might coincide with his inclinations, he yearned 
 to throw it up. 
 
 This last was the feebler side of Evelyn's 
 nature ; and it was perfectly in accordance with 
 such weakness that he should primarily have 
 been so all -engrossed with the recollection of 
 the lovely stranger, whom he had fallen in 
 with under circumstances so romantic, — that 
 he should, when those circumstances faded into 
 the background, feel his interest cool and 
 diminish, — and that directly the thought of 
 restoring the bandage began to assume the 
 shape of a promise unfulfilled, he should recur 
 to it but seldom. 
 
 Fortune and Lady Olivia had very nearly 
 succeeded in spoiling one in whom there yet 
 lay latent germs of rare and beautiful excel- 
 lences, and whom the chill of neglect or the 
 furnace of adversity might have developed into 
 a hero. 
 
 Every generous feeling was now stirred up on 
 Kate's behalf. 
 
 To be sure, she was no longer a charming 
 mystery ; he could not again set her before his 
 imagination as a beauteous unknown creature,
 
 172 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 to be thought about and dreamed about. 
 Such a vision had been somewhat rudely dis- 
 pelled, and his self-complacency had experienced 
 a shock in consequence. He felt that he had 
 made rather a fool of himself. 
 
 But none the less was he ready with his in- 
 dignation when he thought of the motherless 
 girl, who had been unable to accept a buffet 
 of fate, and who had, in consequence, been so 
 hardly dealt with. Her father and sisters, how 
 could they stand by and see it done ? 
 
 '^ Handed over to the secular arm,"* he re- 
 flected. "It was a good stroke of business 
 that. The arch heretic put down with a high 
 hand, it appears all her fellow-offenders at once 
 tendered their submission. My lady may con- 
 gratulate herself." 
 
 It is possible that had the injured one been 
 a meek, plain -featured saint, uncomplainingly 
 bearing her burden on unsymmetrically-moulded 
 shoulders, indignation might have been enough ; 
 he would still have urged that the discipline 
 was over -severe, he would still have experi- 
 enced on her behoof resentment and righteous 
 wTath, but I doubt if he would have set out for 
 the Farm.
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 173 
 
 It was the thought of that proud, suffering, 
 defiant nature, eating its heart out among those 
 lonely wilds, — of that fretted lip and angry eye 
 — of all the charms that he had seen, or fancied 
 he had seen, in the old farmhouse, — that awoke 
 in his breast a mixture of admiration, pity, 
 curiosity, he knew not what — but above and 
 beyond all, a determination to see and hear 
 Kate Newbattle asrain. 
 
 Little Maidie's shocked and virtuous 
 '^ Wasn't it naughty of Kate ? " recurred again 
 and again to his memory as he drove along. 
 He quite agreed with the child ; naughty, un- 
 deniably naughty it was. Somehow he liked to 
 think how naughty, and to reflect upon what 
 colour the glowing cheeks must have worn, and 
 upon what words the guilty lips must have let 
 loose, in the scene that had been so fast im- 
 printed on the little sister's memory. Pretty 
 bad the whole must have been, — he wished he 
 had seen it. 
 
 Yes ; he, Evelyn, who always knew by in- 
 stinct when there was anything unfriendly 
 and disagreeable going on, and kept out of it 
 as he would have avoided the plague, now 
 actually found himself wishing he had been by
 
 174 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 when two feminine combatants opposed eacb. 
 other. 
 
 " It was all my mother's fault, of course," Le 
 told himself. " No woman of sense would have 
 made such an outrageous prohibition. As if 
 there were not flowers enough for any number of 
 people in the garden, and as if she could not have 
 let a trifle like that alone, rather than add it to 
 the vexations the girls were already undergoing!" 
 
 By-and-by, however, he found himself having 
 his fling at the girls too. 
 
 They might have managed better. His 
 mother, though absurd and tiresome, was not 
 wantonly ill-natured ; they might — at least 
 Kate might, for apparently Alice did — have 
 given into her, humoured her. Humouring, — 
 that was all Lady Olivia needed. Would they 
 but show her a little surface -attention, avoid 
 clashing w4th any of her preconceived notions, 
 and put up with her nonsense, they might all 
 have got along together tolerably enough. If 
 he had met the young ladies beforehand, he 
 could have ofiered one piece of invaluable ad- 
 vice, which, had they acted upon it, might have 
 prevented all this scandal and rupture. He 
 would simply have said, " Keep out of her way."
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 175 
 
 Well, it was not too late to drop a hint — 
 such an admonition might yet be useful for 
 the future. 
 
 And now he came to think of it, he must 
 really take Miss Kate to task, since it was cer- 
 tainly the duty of everybody to be accommo- 
 dating, cheerful, pleasant, — and since it was 
 equally certain that Miss Kate Newbattle had 
 not seen her duty in this respect, or had lament- 
 ably neglected it. 
 
 He never made a fuss over things himself. 
 When things went cross with him, as of course 
 they did sometimes, — he paused to consider, but 
 could not at the moment refresh his memory 
 with instances, — it was no matter, things went 
 cross occasionally with every fellow, so of course 
 they did with him too, — but he did not go 
 about makino^ himself disa^eeable. He held 
 his tongue, and the matter righted itself again ; 
 that was the way to do. Matters always do 
 right themselves, if people have the sense to be 
 quiet, and keep their tempers. 
 
 That was the point, though. Some people 
 could not keep their confounded tempers in 
 order. He must confess he did hate bad-tem- 
 pered people. A fellow with a bad temper was
 
 176 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 like that — what was its name ? — that eio^ht- 
 . legged thing in the aquarium, — you never knew 
 what he would fasten on next ! Made the fel- 
 low a nuisance. Obliged one to keep out of the 
 fellow's way. 
 
 It did not occur to our philosopher that the 
 obligation in the present instance had not been 
 imperative : instead of keeping out of the way 
 of this naughty Kate, of whom the first thing 
 that everybody said of her was that she had " a 
 temper," as he thus ruminated, every mile brought 
 him nearer to her. 
 
 Kate's heart had been very sore since Evelyn's 
 visit. Not that she had fallen in love with him — 
 for she knew from the first, or almost from the 
 first, who he was, — but she had liked him, as she 
 had fancied she would ; she had found him nice, 
 kind, and handsome, — all, in short, that she had 
 been taught to expect ; and his coming upon her 
 whilst she was undergoing her sentence of humi- 
 liation and punishment, had stung her to the 
 quick. Here was the brother of whom so much 
 had been said and thought ; whose looks, talents, 
 tastes, and virtues Lady Olivia had never been 
 weary of vaunting; and whose approach had, 
 through her means, come to be regarded by the
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. lV7 
 
 expectant household as an event of first-rate im- 
 portance. Everything was to be got in order be- 
 fore Captain Evelyn, came. His name had been 
 used as a spur, a reward, and an incentive ; and 
 in every capacity it had not failed of success. 
 
 That he should stumble thus upon her poor 
 disgraced self at the outset ! 
 
 She would rather it had been any one else, 
 — even Mrs Popham, who, up to this time, had 
 been the person chiefly dreaded. Mrs Popham 
 would, she knew, have been only half angry 
 with her, and would have been very angry 
 indeed with Lady Olivia, — but she would in- 
 evitably have counselled submission, and sub- 
 mission was just the one thing the rebel was 
 resolved against. 
 
 But no visitor could have been so unwelcome 
 as the one to whom she had herself held out her 
 hand. 
 
 She would not say altogether why, even to 
 herself — would not acknowledge all that was 
 meant by the vexation, which surpassed what 
 was intelligible to Miss Comline and her parents. 
 But it was so, that there had existed, in the 
 heart of the lonely girl, a sort of dim, fanciful 
 hope, connected with this brother who was com- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ing. On him had been bestowed some of the 
 foolish day-dreams of a keenly affectionate and 
 isolated nature ; and the half-real, half-imaginary 
 resemblance to a lost and much-loved relation, 
 had been magnified and dwelt upon until it had 
 become invested with a value whose extent she 
 durst hardly own even to herself. 
 
 That he was the son of her enemy she was too 
 noble to regard. She had yearned to behold 
 Kupert Evelyn ; anxious to fill up her shadowy 
 outline, if possible, — but if that could not be 
 done, to scatter it to the winds. She had allowed 
 herself to bask in a certain sunshine of anticipa- 
 tion concerning him, to wonder whether any one 
 might ever again be to her what her Uncle 
 George had been — might put up with her follies, 
 take her part, and draw her to his side. Could 
 it be that in her new brother she might find 
 such another friend ? The never-uttered thought 
 made her tremble. 
 
 '' It is not that he is so very much older," Lady 
 Olivia had repeatedly observed, " but my son has 
 seen so much of the world, has had so much ex- 
 perience, that the girls must really remember he 
 will expect to be treated with some respect. The 
 little ones had better call him 'Brother Kupert/
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 1*79 
 
 and even Alice and Kate must not look upon 
 him quite as though he were a contemporary." 
 
 Accordingly, they had all learned to shake in 
 their shoes ; and there had been nothing to dis- 
 sipate Kate's ideal but the sight of himself. 
 
 Had that done so "? 
 
 We shall see. 
 
 All the day after his departure, she followed 
 him with her thoughts. As night drew on, 
 she pictured the arrival at Carnochan, the stir 
 of the assembled household, the joyous wel- 
 come from one and another, the circle formed, 
 the outcast forgotten. Tears burst from her 
 eyes again and again as fancy conjured up the 
 scene ; but she wiped them from her cheeks as 
 fast as they fell, and stamped down the whispers 
 of regret and longing which strove to make them- 
 selves heard above the tumult within. No place 
 would she yield to such cowardly desires. Eight 
 was on her side ; and would she avow herself to 
 blame — tell a lie, cringe to power, and be sub- 
 ject to tyranny henceforth, all for this? Be- 
 cause she was too weak to resist — because her 
 prison was intolerable ? 
 
 No, indeed. She would hold out to the end, 
 and defy them all. For very shame they could
 
 180 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 not keep her away much longer ; whatever Lady 
 OHvia might wish, her father would never con- 
 sent to any serious extension of her banishment, 
 and she would go home, when sent for, with un- 
 crushed spirit and unabated resolution. 
 
 Mean, selfish, and treacherous as her step- 
 mother might be, (Kate exaggerated, but that 
 we all do in the heat of passion), she told her- 
 self that she would brave it all, and a day of 
 reckoning would surely come at last, to show 
 which of the two had been sinned against. 
 
 But oh, why had Captain Evelyn passed that 
 way '? 
 
 Why must needs the stranger, whom sheer 
 necessity had driven her to succour, turn out to 
 be Lady Olivia's matchless son ? 
 
 Was it not enough that she was miserable, 
 cast out of doors, and impotent in her rage and 
 grief, but that he must know it, and be a witness 
 of it? 
 
 It did not occur to her that, for their own 
 reasons, her secret might be kept by those he was 
 now among. She was not sophisticated enough 
 to suspect that as little of the matter as might 
 be would transpire, — that experienced hands 
 would slur all such family dissensions over.
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 181 
 
 She fancied that it was to them the all-absorbing 
 topic that it was to her ; that it still held its 
 place of paramount interest, to the exclusion of 
 pleasanter themes ; and that it was impossible 
 but that, before Evelyn had been many hours 
 domesticated, he would have heard from one and 
 all their version of her misconduct. 
 
 It might have been a relief, but it would also 
 have been a stinmnof mortification and a new 
 misery, had she known that at the end of a fort- 
 night not a word had been said but that simple 
 *' Kate is away on a visit, as it happens," which 
 had accounted for her absence on the first night. 
 
 Her name had been obliterated without an 
 effort. 
 
 They were all enjoying themselves very well 
 at Carnochan, — getting on better, in fact, than 
 they had ever done before — making things 
 pleasant for their guests, and, above all, for the 
 guest, whom all united in their desire to honour ; 
 while, during those same dusky October days^ 
 she was chafing her already festering wounds by 
 inventing incidents not one of which ever took 
 place, and coining phrases and sentiments of 
 which nobody felt the need. 
 
 What one would say, and what another would
 
 182 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 think, — this was all in all to the poor solitary 
 child, until at length such ceaseless brooding 
 over the one subject told upon her health and 
 looks, and made her kind governess, as well as 
 the old people, uneasy. 
 
 Lizzie Comline, of whom hitherto nothing has 
 been said, may be presented to our readers in 
 a few words. She was sensible, plodding, toler- 
 ably clever, and not without ambition. Being 
 the only child of parents in easy circumstances, 
 and having had every advantage from her earliest 
 years, it had been comparatively a simple matter 
 for her to rise in the social scale ; and whatever 
 Lady Olivia might choose to say, she was neither 
 vulgar nor ill-bred. Her manner was retiring, 
 her voice sweet, and her movements gentle ; 
 but — and it was on this "but" that all the 
 epithets bestowed on the unfortunate gover- 
 ness hung — she had an undeniable Galloway 
 accent. 
 
 It is true that, in the colloquial intercourse at 
 the farm, the dialect of the two younger people 
 more nearly assimilated than did that of Lizzie 
 Comline to her homely parents; that she had been 
 so far lifted by an excellent education, and by 
 consorting with superior people, out of the sphere
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 183 
 
 into which she had been born, as to seem in 
 their eyes a being worthy of any station, and 
 fitted for any position. But there was some 
 show of reason for the condemnatory clause in 
 Lady Olivia's note — a note which, by the way, 
 had been so grievous to the poor disenchanted 
 parents, that, as soon as they found the light in 
 which it was regarded by the second Miss New^- 
 battle, they could not open their doors wide 
 enough to receive so keen a partisan. 
 
 Lady Olivia had declared that Kate should 
 not stay at home to breed mischief. Farmer 
 Comline had stood stoutly forth, and vowed she 
 should go back with him. 
 
 Such an arrangement suited everybody ; and 
 for the first week or so, in the flush of her 
 wrath, and in the novelty of the new life, the 
 recusant had been well enough satisfied. 
 
 Ere long, however, she had pined ; how could 
 she help it ? 
 
 She had been brought up difierently. The 
 very conventionalities, and manifold pomps and 
 ceremonies, at which she had been wont to rail, 
 were now felt the loss of. Since she could read 
 all day long without interruption, her brain 
 wearied ; now that she had no longer her pony.
 
 184 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 she wanted to ride ; and Lizzie Comline, who 
 had ere while been pronounced to be the first 
 and best of human beings, the most learned of 
 instructresses, the choicest of companions, was 
 found — oh, how ashamed poor Kate was to own 
 it — to pall upon her taste. 
 
 Naturally, she did not understand that, after 
 such fiery sensations as had wrung her tender 
 youthful frame during the past six months, her 
 palate was spoilt ; almost any one and anything 
 must seem insipid. 
 
 She w^as beginning to droop ere Evelyn 
 came. His visit wrought a new fever; and 
 more than ever, though from altered motives, 
 she beat against her prison bars after he had 
 left, roaming about by herself, in terror lest 
 her looks should betray to the kind folks who 
 had harboured her the ungrateful, traitorous 
 desire to leave them which anew consumed 
 her, and more silent than ever when in their 
 company, lest some careless word or expression 
 might slip out, and show the direction towards 
 which every thought tended. 
 
 That Evelyn would return, was the last thing 
 she expected. 
 
 The days came and went as drearily as they
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 185 
 
 had done before ; and on the brilliant autumnal 
 afternoon on which he again cast eyes upon the 
 Muirland Farm, she was mooning among the 
 rocks down on the shore, dreaming of nothing 
 less than of such a visitor. 
 
 Sending back the last gig and driver he had 
 hired, when the village two miles east of the 
 farm was reached, Evelyn deposited his port- 
 manteau and fishing gear in safe quarters, to 
 wait till called for, and walked up to see his 
 friends, unceremoniously. If they asked him 
 to remain, well and good ; if not, he had the 
 little inn to fall back upon. 
 
 On coming in sight of his destination about 
 five o'clock, it seemed scarcely credible that it 
 was the same abode whose forlorn and desolate 
 appearance had struck him so forcibly on first 
 beholding it. 
 
 On its rocky promontory, — bathed in a flood 
 of light from the setting sun, whose gorgeous 
 rays blazed over a sweep of glittering, waveless 
 ocean, — supported on the huge boulders be- 
 neath, against which not a ripple broke, — the 
 ancient farmhouse seemed no longer pitilessly 
 exposed, bleak, and storm-beaten ; it was rather 
 a beauteous tranquil spot, far from the noise
 
 186 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and fury of the madding crowd, a haven of 
 refuge, a peaceful anchorage for the weary and 
 passion-tossed. 
 
 He stood still to view the scene. 
 
 Behind lay the waste of moorland road whose 
 unending turns and windings had baffled him 
 so cruelly ; beyond, and stretching away to the 
 north, was the mountain-range by whose heights 
 he had steered duriog his hours on the stream ; 
 and beneath the bank, he could now plainly 
 perceive the wretched hovel w^herein he had 
 first sought shelter. 
 
 Transfigured like all beside, it was now a pic- 
 turesque point in the landscape ; its blue smoke, 
 curling gently upwards in a spiral wreath, 
 pleased the eye, and its heather-thatched roof 
 shone ruddy in the sunlight. 
 
 Although but a brief fortnight had passed, 
 so often in the interval had Evelyn's thoughts 
 recurred to the spot, that every object had a 
 curious historical charm, as though he were 
 revisiting some hallowed scene after prolonged 
 absence. He caught himself saying, "It was 
 just here," and " It was just there," of the 
 veriest trifles ; and as he laid hold of the gate, 
 the opening of which had aff'orded him the
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 187 
 
 opportunity for his second inspection of his fair 
 guide, he found himself quite soft on the subject. 
 He really wished she had not been only Kate. 
 
 '' Hey, Captain I ye're for back again a'ready '?" 
 cried a voice at his side, as a head and two huge 
 shoulders slowly rose to view on the other side 
 of the stone wall at his side. " That's richt. 
 I thocht ye wad come — I thocht ye wad come. 
 The wdfe said 'Na.' Mickle she kenned! Stop 
 a wee, an Til come t'ye," clambering cautious- 
 ly over. " Here's anither sort o' nicht frae 
 yon, 3^e'll say. Lord, it's grand wather, an it'll 
 baud anither ten days or sae ! And ye ken a' 
 aboot us by this time, I'm thinking," he added, 
 with a chuckle. " And what for oor young 
 leddy was sae thrawn t'ye, and wadna hae her 
 name let on, nor naethin' ? Eh, it's a pity, sae 
 young and bonnie ! But come in, come in ; 
 ye're welcome to the Muirland Farm. And 
 ye're come to stay. Captain 1 " 
 
 "If I may hope that your good wife will put 
 me up for a night, as she did before " 
 
 "For a nicht '? Nae mair nor a nicht?" in 
 accents of heartfelt disappointment. 
 
 " Oh, if it comes to that " said Evelyn, 
 
 laughing ; and soon all was arranged. A boy
 
 188 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 was despatched for his luggage, and he had 
 nothing further to think about. 
 
 ''Bide a bit though/' cried the farmer, as 
 they were about to enter the house ; " see 
 roond this way a meenut, Captain. The gude- 
 wife's no' set her e'e on us, or she'd ha' been 
 oot to bid ye welcome ; sae we'll step ayont — 
 jist ben the yard here, and ye'll see oor Chairlie. 
 Eh, he's a bonnie ane ! The morn's morn he's 
 awa' for Falkirk — for the Tryst, ye ken. Noo 
 then, sir," pointing to an aperture in the wall 
 from which Chairlie, a fine black bull of the 
 purest Galloway breed, was looking calmly 
 out. '' See to him, then — see to him," con- 
 tinued Mr Comline, with joyous pride, — "see 
 to him, sir ; eh, Captain ? Isna he o' the 
 richt sort — eh, Captain, eh '? See to his 
 heed ; see to his bonnie birsey broo ; see to 
 his wee bits o' lugs ! No' a spot upon him frae 
 neck to heel. Losh, I wish ye could see him 
 a'thegither ! but we're no' carin' to fash Chairlie, 
 we dinna gang in " 
 
 ''Pray don't, then, on my account." 
 
 " There's no' a bull in Gallowa that'll beat oor 
 Chairlie, Captain." 
 
 " So I should imagine."
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 189 
 
 With SO painstaking a guide, it was easy to 
 admire, and so confident an assertion wanted 
 nothing but an assent ; but Evelyn's assent was 
 given with a warmth that could not fail to 
 please, and his ardent acquiescence in his com- 
 panion's praises left no room for suspicions as 
 to his discretion. It seemed as if he were 
 scarcely les's unwilling to quit the subject or 
 the spot than was honest Comline himself 
 At length, however, they moved a pace or 
 two. 
 
 " Now don't let me take you in," said Evelyn, 
 turning resolutely towards the house. " I know 
 I shall find Mrs Comline about the doors ; and 
 
 it is really a shame " feeling that he would 
 
 as soon make his way inside alone. 
 
 "Ay, ay, she's aboot," replied the farmer, 
 disregarding the latter portion of the sentence, 
 " but that's no' to say she's doin' a' the wark, as 
 was the way when ye cam' oor road last time, — 
 na, na ; Lizzie brocht us a lass whae's doin' fine, 
 an' the mistress may sit in her chair noo, I'm 
 tellin' her. An' we'll mak' nae peyvee aboot 
 ye, Captain ; ye'll tak' us as we are, as ye did 
 syne. AVe're aye the same — aye the same. The 
 laird himsel' whiles comes to us i' the winter-
 
 190 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 time, when the Castle's shut up, an' he's doun 
 for a week's shootin', for the woodcock an' the 
 heather-bleet. D ye see yon flows doun by ? 
 Thon's the place for baith the twa. Phoo ! I 
 hae seen woodcock there when they wasna to 
 be fund or heard o' in ony ither moss for miles 
 roond. There's anither up ayont that's no that 
 bad neither. But ye're for indoors ? I'm com in' 
 
 wi' ye " 
 
 "No, don't." 
 
 '•' Hoots ! what for no ? " replied Mr Comline, 
 stoutly. " My wark's done : an' 'deed there's 
 little wark on hand the noo ; we're jist puttin' 
 things straicht here an' there i' the backen. 
 It's a gude time o' the year to tak' for bits o' 
 odd jobs that a body lets pass ither whiles ; but 
 it'll no' do to leave ower muckle to it neither, as 
 I was tellin' the lads the noo. They're afi* for 
 the day, and I was on the road hame mysel' 
 when I fell in wi' you, Captain. An' hoo are 
 a' the family at Carnochan ? " with an evident 
 efibrt at politeness. *' They wad be sweer to let 
 ye awa', I'm thinkin'." Then in a lower key, 
 and glancing round in fear of being overheard, 
 '' They're a prood thrawn pack that's there, 
 tho' the wife munna hear me sayin' it."
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 191 
 
 Evelyn laughed heartily. 
 
 *'Ay, ay," continued the farmer, in high 
 good-humour, '* that's what they are. They're 
 no o' your sort, sir — no ane amang them. Tm 
 wae for that bit young thing that's here, a' the 
 same — that I am. It wasna for her ain folks to 
 cast her frae them, be she what she micht ; an' 
 gudesakes, for being a wee thing mettlesome ! 
 She micht hae kicked the byre to pieces afore I 
 wad hae spurned sae bonny a heifer I " 
 
 " Do you think," said Evelyn, lingering, and 
 still looking restlessly round, as he had not 
 ceased to do since entering the farm precincts, 
 — "do you think that she will be glad to 
 see me "? " 
 
 " Glad here, glad there, she's glad at naethin'. 
 Maybe she'll speak t'ye, mayb^ she'll no. But 
 I wad tak' nae heed, Captain, but gang your 
 ain gait, and e'en let her be. She kenned whae 
 ye were a' the time, — and see what cam' o't ? 
 There's nae sayin' hoo she'll tak' your comin' 
 back, she's been that thowless this bygane week, 
 
 are ye to tell her a' ye ken ? " he broke off, 
 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Certainly, I have no excuse for reappearing 
 otherwise — except this," — pulling out the hand-
 
 192 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 kercliief, which had now grown to be an in- 
 cubus. " Here it is, you see ; and you will 
 understand why it comes so. Perhaps your 
 wife will kindly put it right before Miss New- 
 battle receives it. To tell you the truth, it was 
 hearing how badly your daughter, and my — hum 
 — ah — sister — had been treated at Carnochan, 
 that brought me here. I — I — came to see if I 
 could — could in any way help them." 
 
 '' Ye did that ? " said Mr Comline, stopping 
 short, and digging his stick into the ground. 
 " Ye did that ? Then, sir, you are the gentle- 
 man I took ye for frae the affset ! I thocht 
 I couldna be mista'en. Lord, I am prood ! 
 Aweel, it's a sair story, an' they'll no' thole 
 to hear it mentioned doun by," looking at the 
 house ; " but sae it stan's, — she was chuckit awa' 
 like a bag o' chaff ! They had her for a year 
 an mair, an' aye they were pleased, and she 
 was weel content ; an' a' in a gliiF cam' word 
 frae her Leddyship, your mither, to bid her bide 
 whaur she was — here at the farm, d'ye see ? — an' 
 no' e'en to gang back to pit her bits o' duds 
 thegither ! I went mysel' to fetch them — ay, I 
 did. I'd no' hae my ae bairn gang whaur she 
 w^as lichtlied, ony mair than my Leddy wad hers.
 
 NAUGHTY KATE. 193 
 
 — a hantle less, maybe. Weel, sir, to Carnochan 
 I went — ye mind I tell't ye I had been there, — 
 an' what did I find ? A' the place in a lowe ! 
 Ane wi' her tale, and t'ither wi' hers ; an' the 
 end o't was that I was free to tak' Miss Kate 
 here gin I would, for I had up and said she 
 should gang wi' me an she chose — an' sae here 
 she is. But it's a puir sorrowfu' face I aye see 
 for my pains ; she jist whyripes a' the day lang : 
 an' troth, Captain, though nane can cast it up 
 to me that my mind misgi'es me for that day's 
 wark, I wad be blythe, for a' oor sakes, to see 
 your sister mair couthy." 
 
 *' Where is she now 'i " 
 
 " Whae kens '? Up amang the cleughs, maist 
 like. Whiles she'll sit on a stane, doun by the 
 tide there, for a' the warld like a heron ; and 
 'deed she's nae fatter than the craig o' a heron 
 at the dark o' the moon — when they canna see 
 to fin' their meat, ye ken. Whimsies ? She's 
 fu' o' whimsies ; she doesna ken ae meenute 
 what she'll do the neist, she's that restless and 
 pingin. But I'm wae for her, that I am, puir 
 thing I " 
 
 " But where is she ? " thought Evelyn, impa- 
 tiently. " Here we have been hanging about 
 
 VOL. I. . N
 
 194 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 the doors this half-hour, and — and — somehow I 
 wish I could see her, and be done with it." 
 
 The next moment he heard a light step 
 behind. 
 
 The farmer had preceded him into the house, 
 and he made a halt unobserved. 
 
 Up she came. 
 
 Their eyes met, and he had taken her hand 
 ere she had time for more than amazement. 
 She could only stand still, gasp for breath, and 
 flush all over. 
 
 " I have come back," said Evelyn, '' on pur- 
 pose to see you, Kate."
 
 195 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 
 
 '* Mirtli, admit nie of thy crew, 
 
 To live Avith her, and live with thee, 
 In unreproved pleasures free." 
 
 — L Allegro. 
 
 " No noisy neighbours enter here, 
 No intermeddling stranger near." 
 
 —Cotton. 
 
 He could not have done better. The next 
 moment brought out his rejoicing hostess, es- 
 corted by her no less jubilant spouse; and he 
 had to listen, and laugh, and edge in a word as 
 best he might for another ten minutes, during 
 which time Miss Newbattle stood by silent 
 and bewildered, but certainly without any dis- 
 pleasure being manifested on her downcast 
 countenance. 
 
 "And here's Lizzie," cried the farmer next, 
 producing the quiet, unremarkable-looking young
 
 196 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 woman about whom so much stir had been 
 made, and whom — although he could not have 
 told why, had he been asked — Evelyn now re- 
 garded with especial favour. Surely it would 
 have been more natural that he should have 
 viewed Miss Comline, if not with ill-will as the 
 bone of contention, the apple of discord, the 
 person who had wrought mischief which he 
 was there for the express purpose of remedying, 
 — at least with neutral eyes. It was certainly 
 odd that he should shake her so heartily by the 
 hand, and say to himself, "What a sensible, 
 nice-looking, unaffected girl!" 
 
 The fact was, he was overflowing with good- 
 humour and spirits, charmed with himself for 
 having given pleasure, which in turn was afford- 
 ing him varied and delightful anticipations ; 
 and the innocent governess, who by strict rule 
 could hardly be charged either with the author- 
 ship of Kate's dolor or Evelyn's enjoyment, was 
 the object of the latter's unreasoning gratitude. 
 She had brought about the situation, and he 
 did not care how she had done it. 
 
 He had not been mistaken in calculating on 
 the reception he should meet with from any one 
 of the party, since the fact that his dark-eyed
 
 A MEREY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 197 
 
 sister stood by, instead of slipping past within 
 doors, was as much as he cared for at present ; 
 and as to the other three, it was plain that not 
 only was what he had done taken in good part, 
 but that nothing else would have afforded the 
 worthy people equal satisfaction. 
 
 Here was the son, the only son, of the proud, 
 painted Jezebel — (poor Lady Olivia! she only 
 used a little pearl-powder and rouge occasion- 
 ally) — here he was, on the side of the oppressed. 
 Here was an ambassador extraordinary — a med- 
 iator unparalleled. My lady herself, suing for 
 pardon at their door, could not have soothed 
 their wounded pride more entirely. 
 
 It did not just then occur to any one to ima- 
 gine that their champion had deserted, as it 
 were, unbeknown to the opposing powers ; nor 
 did it occur to him to suppose that they would 
 think he had done anything else. Nothing was 
 said on a subject which could very well wait — 
 which had better, indeed, be kept for a quieter 
 season ; and as long as the party was complete, 
 it was felt, by one and all alike, that genial and 
 ordinary topics could alone be introduced. At 
 supper -time the chances of good sport on the 
 burn, which was within half a mile, were dis-
 
 198 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 cussed. Evelyn had inspected the water, and 
 had found it low. This had been the only 
 drawback to his good fortune ; but he was too 
 much of a sportsman to complain, especially as 
 a good night^s rain would, he knew, pull up the 
 stream to its proper pitch, and all would be right. 
 
 " And I'm dinged if we hanna rain 'ore mony 
 hoors are gane by," quoth the farmer ; ^' there's 
 a brugh aboot the moon the nicht that we 
 hanna seen this while back, and that betokens 
 an onfa' o' rain at this time o' the year. Hark ! 
 it's drifflin a'ready ! The Captain is in the 
 nick o' time, an it come na a spate ; but o' that, 
 nae man can prophesy." 
 
 '^ A spate '? " said Evelyn. 
 
 '' A rush o' water frae the hills — a flood, sir, 
 a flood. Eain's what we want — that's to say, 
 what you want ; for it wad be no' that welcome 
 to me. I could stan' it, but I'm no carin' for it ; 
 out neither the ta'en nor the t'ither o' us wants 
 to be drooned." 
 
 '^The burn is close at hand," said Evelyn, 
 looking across the table, and pointedly address- 
 ing Miss Newbattle ; " is it too rough-walking 
 on the moor for you to come with me to-mor- 
 row, provided the water is in trim '? "
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 199 
 
 The silence and expectant looks of the other 
 three made him repent, the moment he had put 
 the question. It was evidently their custom to 
 let the young lady alone, and he thought he 
 could perceive some anxiety lest he should have 
 done the wrong thing in making his suggestion. 
 
 She herself was evidently taken by surprise, 
 and hesitated, looking at him as though uncer- 
 tain what reply to make to a request so unusual. 
 
 ''Noo then, Missy," said the farmer, encour- 
 agingly, " the Captain wants your company. 
 Poohoo, Captain ! she minds naethin o' rough 
 walking — and it's no' that rough, neither. It's 
 just a wheen bogs — saft to the feet; and there's 
 a dyke or twa, but them she'll easy wun ower ; 
 and there's a bit path, a sheep- track, a mile or 
 sae up, that'll gie ye a lift on. Oo ay. Missy 
 can gang brawly." 
 
 "It'll do her gude," added his wife. 
 
 " Say you'll go, dear," whispered Lizzie. 
 
 Evelyn wished anew he had not spoken. 
 
 "Why, Kate," he said, gaily, though in- 
 wardly vexed with himself for being the cause 
 of her confusion, " you must not make a stran- 
 ger of me. Alice and I have been riding to- 
 gether nearly every day of late ; and the little
 
 200 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ones are allowed to go with me in the boat 
 when they have been on their best behaviour. 
 They have all made friends. I want to get to 
 know you, now. If we have good luck, we 
 shall have a jolly day ; and if we can't catch 
 trout, we can hunt for blackberries.'' 
 
 " Blackberries '? I doot we hanna tha^ fruit 
 in these pairts," said Mrs Comline, thoughtfully. 
 *' There's a wheen blaeberries, but they're on 
 in August ; an' there's cranberries, but they're 
 ower by this time tae. There's naethin' but the 
 brambles " 
 
 " Brambles ; that's it. I saw lots when I 
 
 was here last, and they can't be quite over. We 
 call the branches brambles " 
 
 " An' we ca' them rossens. There's 
 
 rossens o' whuns, and rossens o' brambles, and 
 the like." 
 
 " And the berries, blackberries," Evelyn 
 
 proceeded, bent on accomplishing his purpose, 
 now that he had once mooted it ; " and if Kate 
 will only show me whereabouts to look for them, 
 I'll engage we fill the creel one way or other." 
 
 He caught a low ''Very well," and was satisfied. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the cheerfulness and 
 good -humour which prevailed in the homely
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 201 
 
 party. It seemed characteristic of the place 
 and its inhabitants ; and although it is probable 
 that the flow of spirits which made every smile 
 infectious, emanated in the first instance from 
 the guest himself, he was so far from being con- 
 scious that such was the case, that it seemed to 
 him as though it were he who was exhilarated 
 and inspirited by their geniality. 
 
 He had not felt so merry, he did not know 
 when. 
 
 The quaint old-fashioned parlour was quickly 
 set in order as soon as the meal was ended ; 
 fresh logs were piled on the fire, and a supply 
 laid down within the fender, that all the dewy 
 damp might be extracted ere they were wanted ; 
 a handsome collie stretched himself at full 
 length on the warm rug in front of the hearth ; 
 the farmer pulled round his chair, and Mrs 
 Comline brought forth her spinning-wheeL 
 
 "I see another wheel," said Evelyn. ^'Miss 
 Comline, unless you very much want to knit, 
 do let us have a second hum like that your 
 mother is making now ; it is a delightful sound, 
 and ought to be doubled." 
 
 "But Kate has learned to spin," replied 
 Lizzie, "and she has picked it up so quickly.
 
 202 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 that my mother is quite proud of her pupil. 
 Do get out your wheel, Kate, and set to work, 
 you idle girl." 
 
 " The very thing," thought Evelyn. *' I wanted 
 to set the other two agoing, so as to clear the 
 coast for operations — to have my young friend 
 on my hands ; but this is far better. She must 
 and shall speak to me now." He brought for- 
 ward the wheel, without inquiring whether he 
 was to do so or not ; and the awkward blow 
 on the elbow which, in consequence of handling 
 anything so strange, he bestowed on the fair 
 spinner before whom he was hastening to place 
 it, produced a laugh which was a good enough 
 beginning for anything to follow. 
 
 He saw that she was not vexed, only shy, and 
 still suffering from embarrassment. That, he 
 would essay to conquer, — and he rather liked 
 the office. 
 
 Accordingly, he must have not only the 
 mechanism of the wheel, but the intricacies 
 of the craft explained. 
 
 Next, he would try himself: spinning was a 
 very simple matter ; it was only just holding 
 long white rolls of wool in one hand, and a thin 
 wisp of thread in the other, and the thing was
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 203 
 
 done. It was all very fine to call it spinning ; 
 the two ends flew round and round, and spun 
 themselves I He was sure he could do it. 
 
 '' Let him try, Miss Kate," nodded the old 
 dame, peering over her spectacles, and stopping 
 her own whirring machinery to listen. " Best 
 let him tak' your seat, and try for himsel'. Sit 
 ye doun in her chair. Captain ; an' gie him a 
 gude lang thread, Missy." 
 
 But the longest thread was, as all spinners 
 will imagine, inadequate. 
 
 Evelyn really gave his attention to the busi- 
 ness in hand ; and the more difficult he found 
 it, the harder he tried to overcome, — dashed at 
 the treadle, thrust in the wool, made the spools 
 fl}^ : but all to no purpose. As often as not, 
 the wheel spun round the wrong way, and a 
 weary unreeling had to be gone through before 
 he could get under weigh again : then, to avoid 
 the constant snapping of the thread, he would 
 permit it to grow thicker and thicker, until it 
 resembled a rope in size and toughness, enter- 
 ing only with difficulty its narrow aperture — 
 while at other times it would dwindle, till the 
 end, slipping through his unaccustomed fingers, 
 would get lost in the reel, and, despairing of
 
 204 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 finding it again, he would beg to be allowed to 
 rummage out another, which the artful rogue 
 himself would then slily break off for the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Kate laughed till she cried.. 
 
 She was very wrong to laugh, he said. She 
 ought to have been grieved for his misfortunes, 
 interested in his progress, — above all, ashamed 
 of herself for not giving him plainer directions. 
 It was all owing to the absence of proper direc- 
 tions that he had not done better; and since 
 he was treated so unkindly, only mocked and 
 jeered at, instead of being helped to anything 
 better, he would do no more. 
 
 No, positively he would not try again — he 
 would sit by and see how it was done ; and 
 having left the wool and the wires all in a 
 "burrble," according to the unflattering com- 
 ment of the enchanted Mrs Comline, — who en- 
 tered into the spirit of the scene from behind 
 her own flying threads, — he yielded his place, 
 said he would now watch the process only, and 
 drawing his former chair up, leaned his arms 
 on the little stand, and watched very closely 
 indeed. 
 
 The position was advantageous.
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 205 
 
 He could question, comment, exact explana- 
 tions, and look into her face all the time. When 
 a mistake was made, he could help to rectify it, 
 and it was odd that Kate — who had learned to 
 spin for hours evenly and regularly, since it was 
 the only occupation she had cared to take up in 
 the evenings — should, just when she wanted to 
 be at her best, to display her little accomplish- 
 ment, make mistake upon mistake. He had his 
 laugh at her, as they fumbled together over the 
 troublesome lost ends of thread ; and although 
 she did not like to tell him — being unsophisti- 
 cated — how infinitely better she would have done 
 had he not been by, there is very little doubt that 
 he knew as much. He took note that the little 
 fingers would have known more fully what they 
 were about had they been cooler, quieter. 
 
 Mr Comline was ere long, in his own phrase, 
 ^' dovering " peacefully ; his wife presently left 
 ofi* noting anything beyond her own diminishing 
 pile of fleecy *' rowans ; " and their daughter, 
 with her fingers flying along a stocking which 
 she was knitting rig-and-fur — in itself suflicient- 
 ly engrossing, as knitters will testify — was still 
 further abstracted from observation by having 
 her eyes fast on a book on her lap. It struck
 
 206 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Evelyn that no piano nor harp playing had ever 
 offered such opportunities for progressing in 
 intimacy with a fair performer, or even for 
 subtle touches of love-making, had love-making 
 been in the question, as did this antiquated art 
 of spinning. 
 
 The soft, steady evolutions of the now obedient 
 wheel would not have drowned the tenderest 
 whisper, while the tax upon the eyes and atten- 
 tion of the spinner was or might be made so 
 slight as to leave her at liberty to talk, to smile, 
 to exchange glances, — to do anything that was 
 required. 
 
 The room might have been, perchance with 
 advantage, larger; the company might have been 
 more scattered, but, as he now and then lifted 
 his head to observe, they could not have been 
 otherwise more indulgent. While close by, — 
 while Lizzie Comline was on his other side, and 
 her parents only across the hearth, wdthin ear- 
 shot, able to take note of all that went on, — 
 no one was prying, no one was intruding. He 
 could say and do what he chose. 
 
 Before the evening was over, all coldness and 
 restraint had vanished between him and Kate. 
 She was talking freely, eagerly; she was smiling
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 207 
 
 at his jests, and listening, even stopping her busy- 
 hand to listen,, when his conversation grew too 
 interesting. Instead of shunning his notice, she 
 seemed pleased by it, encouraged and cheered, — 
 a different creature, in short. 
 
 He had no need to look about for aids to 
 chat. 
 
 He had been in the humour, to begin with^ 
 and afterwards nothing came amiss. 
 
 When presently the circle woke up to life 
 again, — when the farmer reopened his eyes, and 
 the gudewife closed her labours, and Lizzie her 
 book, — he could be ready to take up anew the 
 post of general entertainer, and pass the jest 
 round into which all could enter, delighted to 
 find that the solitary exception to the innocent 
 hilarity of the evening was now no longer grave, 
 that not one among them all was dull, gloomy, 
 nor uneasy. 
 
 It was enough to kindle animation afresh. 
 He might not catch the point of every phrase, 
 nor the precise meaning of each term or idiom, 
 but he usually contrived to do without inter- 
 pretation. Lizzie Comline and his sister Kate 
 should not feel that he was in any way holding 
 aloof, that the relations of the one were beyond
 
 208 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 tlie pale of those with whom he could cheerfully 
 associate ; and disgusted as he was at the mo- 
 ment, with the folly and heartlessness of his 
 own parent, he told himself repeatedly that this 
 farmer's daughter, however far she might have 
 left hers behind as regarded outward appear- 
 ances, was fortunate in having one of whom, 
 in all essential points, she needed never to be 
 ashamed. 
 
 The evening closed with goodwill on every 
 side; they knelt together as one household before 
 the Giver of all good ; and Evelyn, as he held 
 open the door for the two girls to depart by 
 their own staircase, called presently after them 
 to bid them observe the scene without, where 
 the moonbeams on the water, still bright, though 
 heavy rain was grimly pursuant from the south, 
 was worth opening their shutters to see. He 
 was certainly making progress. 
 
 The rain came on, as foretold, and just stopped 
 short of the undesired spate. 
 
 Nothing could have been better : and as for 
 Kate's promise, it was fulfilled without a word ; 
 in truth, she had thought of little else since it 
 had been given ; and somewhat intimidating as 
 was the prospect, she would have been hardly
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 209 
 
 less disappointed than the projector of the scheme 
 himself, if it had had to be given up. 
 
 They set forth, assured that the burn would 
 be at its best. 
 
 '^An' that's as it suld be," commented the 
 old host, as he stood looking after the young 
 figures, whose rapid, springing step soon took 
 them to a distance. *' That's what I ne'er thocht 
 to see, neither. Noo, shell tell him a' her tale, 
 an' he'll hear the richts o' the story. Lord, to 
 think o't ! Him that my Leddy hands sic a wark 
 wi', her grand English son, to turn roond like 
 this and bite her ! Her pridefu' state bit to 
 come low — mony's the day I hae said sae ; but, 
 my certie, I little thocht it would ! They're a 
 braw couple, thae twa, and wad mak' a braw — 
 hoots ! what am I thinkin' o' ? He's her ain 
 brither, or as like; they'll be fain to think o' 
 naething mair." 
 
 The reader is aware, however, that matters did 
 not stand precisely as the oracular Comline sup- 
 posed, and that even the thrust to her pride, 
 from which he presumed his noble enemy to be 
 suffering, had not as yet been given. 
 
 Lady Olivia, knowing nothing of the pair who 
 were so merrily wending their way to the hill 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 that balmy morning, nor of the chuckle at her 
 expense which the rejoicing farmer had sent 
 after them, was so far from anticipating any 
 blow from such a quarter, that she was more 
 complacent and benign than she had been for 
 some time, and was disposed not only to look 
 upon her lines as having, on the whole — now 
 that she had got rid of her chief tormentor — 
 fallen in pleasant places, but to extend her bor- 
 ders thereof, and that in a way which is of some 
 importance to our story. 
 
 In the west wing of Carnochan, up a narrow 
 spiral stair that communicated with itself alone, 
 there was a small, three-cornered turret-cham- 
 ber, whose oriel window overlooked the lake, 
 and into which the glories of the setting sun for 
 many months in the year nightly penetrated. 
 It was a snug little apartment when reached ; 
 but it was so far removed from the other sitting- 
 rooms, that the inconvenience of being out of 
 the way whenever anything happened, or when 
 wanted by the rest of the family, was so much 
 felt, that no one had ever cared to inhabit the 
 triangle — as it was called — but Kate, to whom its 
 very disadvantages endeared it. The not being 
 causelessly interrupted was just what she valued;
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 211 
 
 and she was so seldom wanted by ODe or another 
 for any real reason, that she could not care about 
 saving them the trouble of a hunt. Besides, 
 they might reckon on her being there if neces- 
 sary, since a petition for its sole use had a few 
 years before been granted ; and since then its 
 walls had been embellished by her books and 
 pictures, its table by her writing-desk and such 
 of her other possessions as Maidie's rapacity had 
 spared, and its window endeared by the memory 
 of many a musing hour. 
 
 The renunciation of this retreat had been an 
 additional grief of heart to the solitary-minded 
 girl when sent forth on her exile, — or, to be 
 strictly correct, the thought of it had come back 
 to her with many pangs after the first tumult 
 of superior emotions had subsided. 
 
 At the time, it had scarcely been thought of, 
 but subsequently it had been felt to be a daily 
 loss. She had, at the farm, no place to be alone 
 in ; and none but true lovers of solitude can 
 appreciate such a deprivation. If the weather 
 were unfit for her to wander abroad, she must 
 be ever within sight and hearing of all that 
 went on within ; she could not withdraw her- 
 self and sit up-stairs without Lizzie's kind voice
 
 212 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ofFering to keep her company. Her little cham- 
 ber at Carnochan was the chief pleasure she 
 looked forward to regaining when the day of 
 her recall should arrive. 
 
 Now it so happened that Lady Olivia, on the 
 morning after her son's departure, having noth- 
 ing else to do, set forth upon a tour of the 
 house, and, as ill-luck would have it, hit upon 
 Kate's sanctum. 
 
 She was aware of its existence — knew, at least, 
 that there was some such place, some little pokey 
 back-den, called by the children Kate's room, or 
 the *' triangle ; " but neither of these designa- 
 tions had prepared her for a little abode which, 
 at the first glance, seemed ridiculously good for 
 such a purpose. True, the chintzes were worn 
 and faded, and the furniture a collection of 
 refuse odds and ends — but what of this ? The 
 whole was harmonious, and the view from the 
 window exquisite. 
 
 This the lair of that little sharp - clawed 
 tigress ? It was really too bad ; she felt as if 
 she had been kept out of it, excluded, defrauded 
 of her knowledge of so much enchantment, in 
 that she had never before found her way thither. 
 Before looking round three minutes she was con-
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 213 
 
 vinced that she was in one of the best rooms in 
 the house, and a servant was summoned to clear 
 away Miss Kate's things, put them in her bed- 
 room, and remove the furniture to the attics. 
 
 " I shall," said Lady Olivia, " have a boudoir 
 surpassing Lady Julia's, and as entirely different 
 from, as it excels, any I have ever seen. A most 
 absurd idea it was indeed, to make no use of 
 such an elegant little retreat." 
 
 Even to herself she would not say that any 
 feeling of vindictiveness towards the late owner 
 urged her on to take possession ; the room was 
 simply being made "no use" of, and if it were 
 absolutely necessary that the young lady must 
 have a sitting-room of her own on her return, 
 another could he found which would equally 
 well answer her purpose. 
 
 Not a qualm disturbed her self - exultation 
 over so lucky a discovery, and she announced it 
 to her husband in the presence of his daughters, 
 together with her intentions on the subject, and 
 her ideas as to the patterns of rep and damask, 
 for which she had written without losing a post. 
 
 *' Kate's room!" whispered Marjorie, loud 
 enougk to be heard ; Alice pursed up her lips ; 
 and Bertha wrote to Kate the next day. It
 
 214 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 was something to have such an item of news to 
 communicate ; and Bertha, who was herself in 
 the chronic position of an aggrieved one, now 
 looked upon Kate with a fraternal eye, and told 
 her of her wrongs with a plainness of speech 
 which was not intended to soothe nor to lighten 
 the offence. 
 
 This was what was going on at Carnochan. 
 Let us now return to the unwittinor and bliss- 
 fully ignorant Kate. 
 
 She was having, perhaps, the happiest day 
 her life had ever known. Showers and sunshine 
 succeeded each other overhead, but all was sun- 
 shine within. The trout took well in the deep 
 pools below the waterfalls ; and she would not 
 be left behind, even when the banks were high 
 and steep, but went down with her fisherman 
 to the very brink. The trees overhung closely, 
 and she could slip from bough to bough, and be 
 drawn at last on to the ledge whither he had pre- 
 ceded her, and whence she could watch, in silent 
 appreciation, the silvery trout pulled out from 
 beneath the very jaws of the falls, laying them 
 afterwards, with her own little fingers, on the 
 grass at the bottom of the creel. That was con- 
 ceded to her as her part of the day's work.
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 215 
 
 If she were absolutely forced to remain on 
 the moor above while he descended, the cliff 
 proving altogether untenable for feminine foot- 
 ing, she was anxious and eerie, in a state of 
 excited perturbation for which she had no name, 
 — but directly he rejoined her, all was well : 
 the hours had never passed more quickly. 
 
 As for " telling her tale," neither Kate nor 
 Evelyn opened their lips on the subject. 
 
 Time enough, he thought, when he should 
 have won her confidence, — when he had seen 
 that timid glance able to face his own, and that 
 ever-ready blush more slow in coming. Then, 
 indeed, he might hope to enter on more delicate 
 matters, but at present he knew better. She 
 was but half tamed. 
 
 And so he spent the evening again beside her 
 spinning-wheel ; and there was another day on 
 the burn, and yet another lesson in the mysteries 
 of the craft at night, more interesting and en- 
 grossing than either which had gone before, and 
 yet nothing had been said of his mission. 
 
 '' Aweel," said the farmer, to whom a sort of 
 explanation had been made, Kate being out of 
 the room ; " tak' your time, Captain — there's nae 
 call to fash yoursel'. Lord, whae suld ken but
 
 216 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 yersel' 1 An' gentry folks is fashions to us 
 wha kenna their ways — lettin' alane that oor 
 bit customer ben the hoose is a wee thing 
 camstairy upo' her ain accoont. Let her alane, 
 — that's the plan : hurry nae man's cattle, say- 
 eth the Proverbs o' Solomon ; an' that whilk is 
 sune done, is ill done." 
 
 " There'll be nae mair burn-wark for a while 
 though, Captain," he observed, on the re-entrance 
 of Miss Newbattle ; '' there'll be an even-doun 
 pour the nicht, by the ark i' the cluds I showed 
 ye the noo, 'and ye'll see what like the water 
 will be the morn ! Miss Kate mun tak ye to 
 see the stanes, the cercle — the what-d'ye-ca'-it ? 
 Or stop a wee, — there's the A'bey." 
 
 The Abbey, however, was the favourite resort 
 of the ladies at Castle Kenrick, and Evelyn 
 hastily declined it. " 'Tweel, there's the stanes, 
 then," rejoined Mr Comline, somewhat disap- 
 pointed ; '* Tse warrant ye hanna been there, for 
 they're no muckle kenned o'." 
 
 '^ What is that, Kate '? Something interesting, 
 I am sure ? This country is full of interesting 
 things — either abbeys, or castles, or forts, or 
 caves " 
 
 " Not one of them is this," cried Kate, joy-
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 217 
 
 ously : her eyes were as bright and her bloom 
 as steady that night as though she had been 
 a mirthful lassie with a heart at ease, and all 
 besides to her mind. "You have just missed 
 saying the right word. You will see, but I 
 won't tell you what you will see " 
 
 " No. Take me." 
 
 '' If you are sure you care to go 1 " 
 
 " I do indeed care to go." 
 
 " Lizzie, you will come ; and we must start 
 early, for it is a good walk." 
 
 '' Mickle ower faur for Lizzie," said her father, 
 drily. '^Lizzie's best at hame, forbye. Gang 
 yer ways, Miss Kate, my dear, and here's your 
 brither to see after ye : wow, but it's a new 
 face ye hae on the nicht ! " 
 
 " You think her walk has done her good," 
 said Evelyn, frankly inspecting the improve- 
 ment. " I think so too. I wonder, Kate, what 
 they would all have thought of that jump 
 beneath the *bridge ! " 
 
 Throughout the evening they were continu- 
 ally making allusions to their ramble. As they 
 ate the trout, they disputed to which pool one 
 and another had belonged : and even the pros- 
 pect of another expedition on the following day,
 
 218 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 could scarcely make amends for losing the sport 
 and the scenery of the moor. 
 
 But all out-of-door projects had to be aban- 
 doned when the dawn broke, and it was seen 
 what sort of weather was in store. Hour after 
 hour the clouds emptied themselves in cease- 
 less torrents, and Evelyn was fain to find variety 
 in a wet ride to the village for the newspaper, 
 and any letters that might chance to be at the 
 post-office. None, of course, would be awaiting 
 himself, but he was diverted to perceive that 
 the one for Miss Newbattle which was put into 
 his hand, was directed in large childish writing, 
 and bore the Kirkcudbright post-mark. It was 
 certainly from Carnochan. 
 
 " By the way," he reflected, '' this will show 
 my fair Kate that my presence here is unbe- 
 known at headquarters, which will be a good 
 opening for a '' seris conversation,' as Mr Com- 
 line calls it. I must find out how matters stand. 
 I must really perform, my duty in that respect. 
 This taking her about, and talking nonsense, by 
 way of cheering up her spirits, is all very agree- 
 able ; and as long as I am here, I don't know 
 that I wish her to think about anything more : 
 but to leave her behind ! No, no ; it is not to
 
 A MERRY EVENING AT THE MUIRLAND FARM. 219 
 
 Le thouo^lit of, — she must be back at Carnochan 
 before I am. I could take a run down the Mull, 
 so as to be out of the way, and make all things 
 natural, if I can but bring her to reason. They 
 must come to terms somehow, that's a fact ; and 
 I should imagine my youDg madam won't be 
 in such a hurry to break the peace another time. 
 Poor little thing, she has had a lesson ! " 
 
 Kate received her letter, and looked at it 
 dubiously. 
 
 *^ From home, is it ?" said Evelyn, with the 
 freedom warranted by his position and his know- 
 ledge of her affairs. *'Did you expect me to 
 bring you that ? I am w^et through, but I have 
 had a famous ride, and got my paper. It is 
 clear now, Kate ; come with me along the shore 
 before the lis^ht goes. I won't be five minutes 
 in changing my things." 
 
 He was ten, but no one was there when he 
 came down, and at last he went in search of 
 Lizzie, whom he heard in the back regions, and 
 despatched her to see what was the matter. 
 
 " I think," said the delegate, when she re- 
 turned, *' that you must excuse Kate to-day. 
 Captain Evelyn. Her letter has rather upset 
 her. Some little annoyance "
 
 220 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 '' Indeed '? " 
 
 " She would rather be left to herself." 
 
 '' But, my dear Miss Comline, don't you per- 
 ceive that it is this very being left to herself 
 which is doing your pupil so much harm 1 She 
 ought to be drawn out of herself, to talk about 
 her troubles. You should make her confide 
 in you " 
 
 " You forget. Captain Evelyn, that Kate 
 
 is hardly my jpupil even now, and at Carnochan 
 I was only permitted to be her occasional com- 
 panion — to read with her, but not to teach her, ' 
 nor have any authority over her. Deeply as I 
 am interested in dear Kate, I cannot presume 
 to dictate to her." 
 
 " Exactly, Miss Comline ; you are in the 
 right, as usual. You are not the person. / 
 am. Send her down to me."
 
 221 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 
 
 " Lay aside life-harming heaviness, 
 And cultivate a cheerful disposition." 
 
 — Richard II. 
 
 Screening her face from observation as well as 
 she could, and wrapped in the old shawl she 
 had worn on the occasion of their first meeting, 
 Kate obeyed the second summons. He could 
 see at a glance that she had been weeping pas- 
 sionately, and that it was no time to affect a 
 jaunty ignorance, nor to greet her with the play- 
 ful reproach that might have suited another mood. 
 
 They walked in silence down the little path- 
 way to the shore ; and even when there, it was 
 only an occasional comment on the tide, the sky, 
 or the overhanging cliffs, Avhich passed between 
 them for a considerable time. 
 
 At length, having stumbled along to a good
 
 222 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 distance, and feeling confident of not being in- 
 terrupted, Evelyn felt it was as well to speak. 
 
 " Sit down, Kate ; I have a great deal to say, 
 and I am sure that you will now allow me to 
 say it. Here is a cleft in the rock, quite dry, — 
 come. I am so sorry you got that letter," he 
 added, in his kindest tones. 
 
 " Thank you — thank you." 
 
 " Will you tell me about it ? " 
 
 '' I am afraid you would not understand ; 
 
 but " 
 
 . " Well V ' 
 
 ■ A long pause. 
 
 Then came the outburst. " They never mean 
 to have me back again, — they mean to keep me 
 away all my life — all my life. My room, my 
 own little room, that papa gave me for my very, 
 very own, has been taken from me, and all my 
 
 things put away — and — and She had no 
 
 right to do it — no right to do it. Oh, you don't 
 know the things she does, and I can't tell you, 
 because she is your mother " 
 
 " You may tell me," said Evelyn, gently, 
 '' anything. Say what you please ; and believe 
 me, Kate, that if I can help you I will." 
 
 " I don't think you can," sorrowfully.
 
 A BROTHEKLY ADMONITION. 223 
 
 "Is it about this room that you heard to- 
 dayl" 
 
 " Yes. Bertha wrote. Bertha says it is all 
 settled," — sobbing afresh, — " and that papa 
 never said a word. It is to be Lady Olivia's 
 boudoir — my own little room ! She never asked 
 any one ; she never told papa till the thing was 
 done : she had given orders to have it cleared 
 first ; and then she had written for new furni- 
 ture to put in it. Oh, how dared she "? It was 
 a shame, a shame. The room was mine ; and to 
 go and steal it when I was away " 
 
 " It was as shabby a trick as I ever heard of," 
 acknowledged Evelyn, candidly; "but I would 
 not take it so to heart, if I were you. That 
 won't do any good, you know. Come, don't 
 cry. You speak to your father ; and if Lady 
 Olivia won't disgorge this particular domain, 
 he'll give you another you'll like as well " 
 
 " There is not another room in the house 
 
 I would care to have." 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " If you knew,'^ continued Kate, struggling 
 for breath and speech, " what — what — it was to 
 me ! It was the only place I was ever happy in. 
 No one could come to me there, and — and "
 
 224 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 illogically, '* I see what it all means. I am not 
 to go home again — never to go home again ; 
 never to be taken away from here " 
 
 " My dear child, you are mistaken altogether. 
 You have taken a mere fancy into your head. 
 It was a cruel thing to do to send you here, 
 poor little thing ! " putting his hand on her 
 shoulder, — " to fret among these solitudes ; but 
 I came on purpose to deliver you.'' 
 
 " No, no ; you did not. I see by this letter 
 that you did not. Nobody sent you : oh, why 
 did you come ? " 
 
 *' Are you sorry I came ? " 
 
 " Why did you come 1 " continued Kate, as 
 though she hardly knew what she was saying. 
 " I know you meant to be kind, and it is not 
 your fault; but you had better have left me 
 alone. If you had stayed there, it would have 
 been far better : you have done me no good." 
 
 '' Now," said Evelyn, decidedly, — *' now, 
 Kate, you are going to be a good girl : dry 
 your eyes, and talk sense. You know very well 
 that you have merely to say you are sorry, and 
 mean to behave better in future, and a few pro- 
 per little speeches of that kind, and you can 
 come out of your corner to-morrow. Don't look
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 225 
 
 SO determined over it : wait a minute, and let 
 us talk it over quietly. You and my mother 
 don't get on ; that I understand very well. But 
 it appears that you were not an entirely harmo- 
 nious family party even before Lady Olivia's 
 day. I heard more than one hint dropped 
 about a certain ' naughty Kate ' that had no 
 reference to the step-mother.'' 
 
 " By whom '? By Alice ? " quickly. 
 
 " I wonder if it is fair to say ? But my chief 
 informant was the blue-eyed fairy." 
 
 " Was it Maidie ? " exclaimed Kate, in such 
 surprise and evident mortification that Evelyn, 
 who had seen himself in a scrape, and had 
 pitched upon the child, judging that her infan- 
 tile volubility would be less likely to aggrieve 
 than the tale-telling of an older person, per- 
 ceived at once the fresh error he had fallen into. 
 
 " Well, it was Maidie," he said, however. 
 " Maidie is not a very formidable traitor, is she 1 
 I think she had a kind of lurking afiection even 
 for the ^ naughty Kate,' at whose name she shook 
 her head." 
 
 " Maidie ! " said her sister, as though deeply 
 hurt. " My little Maidie ! " 
 
 *' You are very fond of your little sister ? " 
 VOL. I. p
 
 226 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 She had turned her head away. 
 
 C' I must bring this to bear," thought Evelyn. 
 " It is a good idea to work upon.") 
 
 At last, and bit by bit, it all came out ; noth- 
 ing — so far as the narrator knew at least — ^being 
 kept back or distorted from the truth ; but to 
 an unbiassed ear, it was plain that a jaundiced 
 view of every circumstance, of every trifling 
 word and deed, had been involuntarily taken ; 
 that a naturally high spirit, checked, curbed, 
 and thwarted on every hand — chafed by contact 
 with grosser natures, with all its purest affec- 
 tions repressed, and its noblest aspirations jeered 
 at — had at length proved a soil in which the root 
 of bitterness had taken the place of every tender 
 blossom. 
 
 To Evelyn, accustomed as he was to the sunny 
 side of life, to floating along its glittering surface, 
 without a thought of deep and troubled waters, 
 there was something in such a revelation that 
 was not only unintelligible, but positively ap- 
 palling ; and had the voice which made it been 
 one degree less feminine, and the form by his side 
 been less fragile and willow-like, bending beneath 
 the force of its own vehemence, he would prob- 
 ably have repented of his knight-errantry, and
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 227 
 
 foresworn all further efforts on behalf of Kate 
 Newbattle. 
 
 As it was, he listened with a comiqal mixture 
 of sympathy and consternation. 
 
 What in the world could any one do for this 
 hare-brained girl, unstrung in her nerves, extra- 
 vagant in her passions, and possessed of but one 
 idea? 
 
 He had had no notion of anything so bad as 
 this. How was it likely that even a temporary 
 truce should be patched up between the opposing 
 forces, when insubordination and hatred — yes, 
 hatred was the word, — two stubborn things to 
 deal with, — seemed to have entwined themselves 
 around every fibre of the foolish child's nature ? 
 To look at her, who could have believed it? 
 The face, the beautiful face, that had been such 
 a pleasure to behold a few hours before, was 
 now clouded like the angry sky overhead, every 
 feature distorted by the storm which had broken 
 forth, and which had left all disordered behind. 
 Her whole frame was trembling. It was a — a 
 pretty kettle of fish altogether. 
 
 One thing was obvious : Kate must be soothed 
 and quieted, but she must also be brought down 
 a peg.
 
 228 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Siicli gesticulation, such flashing of eyes and 
 torrents of eloquence, were altogether disturbing 
 and embarrassing; and though no doubt it 
 was very funny, he did not find himself inclined 
 to laugh. 
 
 He was fairly silenced, in short, whilst thus 
 ruminating ; and as it turned out, silence was 
 the thing of all others most likely to have a 
 beneficial effect upon the excited young lady. 
 Her feelings having uninterrupted vent, they 
 carried her to the end of her tether pretty 
 smartly, and shame crept in. An uneasy sense 
 of having gone too far began to show itself. 
 Her tone said plainly, " Comfort me." 
 
 Evelyn, however, took no notice. 
 
 She stole a glance round. He was stolidly 
 gazing at the grey waste of rolling billows in 
 front, as though he intended to say no more 
 after all he had heard ; and there was time for 
 anxiety and a new distress to awake in her 
 bosom ere he looked round, looked into her 
 face, and smiled. 
 
 " And now," said he, " prepare for a lecture." 
 
 *' Oh yes," with a sigh of relief. 
 
 ** You are a strange girl, Kate ; and you are 
 only seventeen "
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 229 
 
 " How did you know that ? " 
 
 " Don't interrupt the court ; I know you are. 
 Seventeen thinks a great deal of nonsense," con- 
 tinued Evelyn, with the sententiousness of eight- 
 and-twenty ; '^ and a certain seventeen, not two 
 miles off, has — she must excuse me for saying 
 so — shown a peculiar aptitude for the gift." 
 
 " You take it in that way ? " exclaimed Kate, 
 bitterly. " Then I have no friend left." 
 
 " May I take it," said Evelyn, " more seri- 
 ously '? May I " — putting his hand on hers, but 
 less affectionately than impressively — " speak 
 as one who is many years older, who has seen 
 a good deal of the world, and who — pshaw ! — 
 I can't be grandiloquent. But it is not worth 
 it, Kate. Believe me, my dear Kate, it is not 
 ivorth all this." 
 
 " Worth what ? " said Kate, with some natural 
 bewilderment. " I don't understand." 
 
 " They say at Carnochan that you are way- 
 ward and self-willed. You see yourself injured 
 and ill-treated. Shall I tell you what / see '? " 
 
 " Yes," rather faintly. 
 
 " I see, Kate, a motherless girl " 
 
 '' And "homeless." 
 
 '' No, not homeless, dear ; don't talk nonsense.
 
 230 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Now, I must begin over again ; and you spoilt 
 the rounded period besides. I am really in earn- 
 est now, Kate ; so listen. If you are mother- 
 less, you have a kind and most indulgent father. 
 If your home be not all that you wish, it is 
 beautiful and comfortable. If you do not find 
 your sisters much of companions, I'm sure you 
 love them — one of them very dearly. Now tell 
 me, have you ever set yourself to see if there be 
 nothing in you " he stopped. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "If your home be unhappy, have you ever 
 tried to make it otherwise ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 *^ If they speak unkindly of you behind your 
 back, have you kind thoughts of them ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " From all I have heard on both sides,'' con- 
 tinued Evelyn, slowly and clearly, " I have no 
 hesitation in saying which I think to be most — 
 not alone — but chiefly to blame. Do you know, 
 Kate, which it is ? '' 
 
 "You." 
 
 He could not think afterwards how he had 
 had the courage to say it : it had only been by
 
 A BEOTHEELY ADMONITION. 231 
 
 keeping his eyes steadfastly the other way that 
 he had been able to speak the word, and having 
 spoken, to allow it to stand. 
 
 But the truth was, that Evelyn, like most soft- 
 hearted people, when ground up to the point, 
 could be tolerably severe ; driven to break the 
 ice by dire necessity, when once fairly in for it, 
 he would not trust himself to look back ; and, 
 resolved in this instance to push his valour 
 (I Voutrance, he pronounced the last few sen- 
 tences in a slow, cold manner, that sank like 
 lead into the heart of his auditor. 
 
 It was some minutes before she could steady 
 herself sufficiently to utter another syllable ; but 
 at length Pride summoned Resolution, and by 
 their joint aid she rose, saying, '' I daresay you 
 are right ; but that being the case, there is no 
 more to be said. I — I think I will find my own 
 way home." 
 
 "You are offended, Kate, and not justly," 
 said Evelyn, with warmth. **You told me I 
 was to speak ; I warned you I should not 
 flatter; and now you are angry because you 
 have heard the truth!" 
 
 She stood still. "The truth," she repeated, 
 as if to herself. " The truth."
 
 232 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Yes, the truth. Sit down again, my dear 
 little sister," he continued, more gently, '*and 
 think it over for yourself. You say that one 
 and all are against you ? I don't allow that, 
 mind ; but still, suppose they are ? Is it likely 
 that a whole lot of people would be against one, 
 if she were not in fault — pretty much in fault — 
 eh, Kate ? It stands to reason, don't you see ? " 
 
 " They have made me what I am.'' 
 
 " Why should you not be more like them ? " 
 
 '' Because I dislike and despise them," con 
 fuoco. 
 
 "Oh, Kate!" 
 
 " I do, I do ; I would not be like Lady Olivia 
 or — or Alice for the world. Even papa — he is 
 not unkind, but he is not what you think ; he 
 does not really care for us ; he will not trouble 
 himself nor put himself out of his way for any 
 one of us : anybody may do and say what they 
 like, so long as they do not interfere with him. 
 When I tried to show him how things were 
 going wrong, he called me a mischief-maker ! 
 All papa cares for is his own ease and comfort. 
 Would you have me like him ? " 
 
 " I think your father's ease and comfort ought 
 to be a matter of concern to you."
 
 A BEOTHERLY ADMONITION. 233 
 
 " That is begging tlie question." 
 
 " Eh ? " said Evelyn, opening his eyes. Clearly 
 he must not let her take the initiative in this 
 way. 
 
 " When people are mean, and selfish, and un- 
 truthful, you wish me to imitate them ? " 
 
 '' I retract the words," said Evelyn, looking 
 her full in the face. 
 
 Eetract the words ! No power on earth would 
 have made Kate own to retracting one of her 
 words in the heat of combat. She was staggered 
 by the novelty of such an experience. 
 
 " I retract," repeated her companion, " and 
 confess that I was wrong, and you are right. 
 I would not wish you to resemble any one of 
 those you named any more than you would wish 
 it yourself. I would not be more willing to see 
 you take their shape than you would yourself. 
 You are superior to them in every way but one. 
 — Kate, why have you such a temper ? " 
 
 It was easy to get on after that. Throughout 
 all the harangue which followed — and she had 
 it pretty roundly from him too — she could not 
 for a moment lose sight of the tenor of that last 
 sentence, and he was allowed to say what he 
 chose of her temper. He spoke long, and he
 
 234 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 spoke well, for he liked — as who would not have 
 done ? — the pleasant task. An occasional faint 
 remonstrance at the outset only gave addi- 
 tional significance to her subsequent silent ac- 
 quiescence ; and the piteousness of the stag-like 
 eyes, which seemed to implore forbearance, added 
 zest to the pleasure of feeling it was in his own 
 they sought consolation. 
 
 At length it was agreed upon that he should 
 go back to Carnochan on the following day, and, 
 if he found an opening, tender such submission 
 from the rebel as might lead to her recall. If 
 no opportunity ofi'ered, he was to come back to 
 the Farm, in which case she pledged herself to 
 write. All things considered, it was perhaps as 
 well that he should go at once; but he was 
 perhaps a very little nettled to find that his 
 departure was urged. He thought he had done 
 very well, and would have stayed a few days 
 longer with her, if Kate had pressed him. 
 
 As to his interceding for her personally, he 
 had his doubts as to how that would work. He 
 would go, but a voice within whispered that he 
 would certainly return. 
 
 Lady Olivia was charmed to receive her dar- 
 ling back on the next evening ; and being full of
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 235 
 
 her new toy, and not expecting anything amusing 
 from the experiences of a fishing tour, he found 
 it easy to escape curiosity, or rather there was 
 none to elude. He was told at once about the 
 boudoir, and conducted to it forthwith. 
 
 It was now bare, swept, and clean, awaiting 
 its new plenishing. 
 
 '^ Shall I carpet the floor all round, Eupert ? '' 
 inquired his mother, " or be content with only a 
 bit of Turkey in the centre ? Lady Julia Throck- 
 morton had nothing but rugs, and the effect was 
 unique ; but the shape of this room would hardly 
 suit rugs. It is odd, is it not ? I never saw a 
 three- walled room before ; did you ? " 
 
 " Not that I am aware of." 
 
 He had next to go to the window to view the 
 lake, and the place where the vista was to be 
 opened up, in order to show the distant moun- 
 tains. 
 
 " But after all, it is the curious, romantic 
 little perch itself that is so charming," cried its 
 new possessor. "A little ordinary room may 
 with pains be dressed up to look very nice, but 
 this is so distinctive, so uncommon — all by itself 
 up here, there is no limit to what it might be." 
 
 "It is in an awfully out-of-the-way place.
 
 236 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 ma'am, if you mean that. What a place to get 
 at every day of your life ! '' 
 
 '^My dear boy!'' 
 
 " Who is to find j^ou out, up here among all 
 the bedrooms ? A boudoir ought not to be 
 among a lot of bedrooms." 
 
 '^ Who is to know they are bedrooms ? " 
 
 "What else could they be T' 
 
 " At any rate, it is not among them ; it cannot 
 be called being among them, to be at the very 
 far end of the gallery. I think its dear little 
 retired position is one of its chief charms." 
 
 *' A dear little retired position, certainly ! " 
 He could think of nothing else to say, but 
 completed the sentence with an ironical laugh. 
 
 " But, my dear Rupert " Lady Olivia was 
 
 evidently disturbed. She could not understand 
 his picking holes ; it was unlike him to damp 
 any plan ; and when called upon to say a thing 
 was right, she had always reckoned on his doing 
 so. Not having so far had the sympathy of any 
 one but her quiescent husband, — who wanted to 
 fell some timber, as it happened, and contrived 
 that his doing so should open up his lady's vista 
 at the same time, — she had reckoned on the inter- 
 est of her son, and here was Rupert only speak-
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 237 
 
 ing to find fault ! She did not so much mind 
 his standing in silence looking out of the window 
 while she spoke, but for him not to agree at the 
 end was very bad. At length he roused him- 
 self. "Well," he said, '' you will not expect to 
 see me here much, so I need not mind. I shall 
 come to you in the library, or the drawing- 
 room " 
 
 *' But I am not going to sit in the library or 
 
 the drawing-room," protested Lady Olivia, almost 
 in tears. " I mean to be found here, in my own 
 boudoir, by any one who wants me. I have 
 written to Howard's for a chair like your own 
 at Evelyn Towers, on purpose for you, Eupert. 
 It is to be placed there, just where you will catch 
 
 the view. No one else is to use it " 
 
 " It will not be worn out soon, then. 
 
 Thank you, ma'am, for the chair, but it had better 
 be placed somewhere else." To hear Lady Olivia 
 descanting on this and that, doing the honours 
 of the window, the fireplace, and the door, exult- 
 ing in the domain she had taken alike by force 
 and fraud, enraged him .till he hardly knew 
 what he said. In that room he could see only 
 Kate ; and her large, full, swimming eye seemed 
 to rise before him whichever way he turned.
 
 238 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEKS. 
 
 Even in being there at all, and in listening to 
 his mother, he felt a coward and a traitor. 
 
 " How very " began Lady Olivia, plain- 
 tively. 
 
 "Whati" 
 
 '' Unkind." 
 
 "Unkind? I don't see that. The room is 
 for you, not me. You will be quite happy here 
 without me." 
 
 " Indeed, Eupert, you know better. If you 
 take it so " She looked round disconso- 
 lately. " I had better, perhaps " 
 
 He held his breath — recollected himself, 
 and affected to yawn. *^I think Til go down 
 now," he said. " I promised Alice to go 
 round to the stables and look at her pony's 
 knee." 
 
 '' Always Alice ! Do wait a minute and see 
 about this room " 
 
 '' Holloa ! There she is. All right, Alice," 
 calling from the window, "I'll be down directly. 
 Well now, ma'am, what do you want me to see ? " 
 pressing the enemy sore. 
 
 " If I were — were to take another apart- 
 ment " 
 
 "WelH"
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 239 
 
 *'Are you sure, quite sure, that you would 
 make it worth my while ? " 
 
 *' Can't say, ma'am — that is for you to de- 
 cide." 
 
 '^ Would you be prevailed upon to spend 
 some little portion of your time with your poor 
 mother, who sees so little of you, if she followed 
 your advice, and gave up her own way for yours 
 in this instance ? " 
 
 Her son laughed unpleasantly. 
 
 " Why do you laugh like that ? " demanded 
 Lady Olivia, more quickly. 
 
 " Because you are absurd, ma'am. What do 
 you mean by my way ? I have no way. I tell 
 you what I think — that you are making a mess 
 of the matter. But it is no affair of mine ; 
 please yourself." 
 
 Could Kate have heard the mentor who had 
 been so severe on her undutifulness as a child 
 speaking thus, it is to be feared his counsels 
 would have been shorn of half their value. 
 
 " And now I really must go," continued the 
 young man, turning to the door. "And you 
 must decide for yourself, for I have only one 
 thing to say — that you had better decide to 
 inhabit a more accessible region, if you do care
 
 240 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 for my company ; for if you stay here '' — with 
 increased emphasis — " you need not expect that 
 I shall ever again set foot within this door- 
 way ! " 
 
 " Extraordinary ! " murmured Lady Olivia, as 
 the door closed. " What prejudices people do 
 take ! What could have set him against this 
 charming little abode '? Inaccessible ? I don't 
 see that at all. Perhaps it is a little inacces- 
 sible ; but to call it ' among the bedrooms ! ' A 
 boudoir may be anywhere — anywhere. Such a 
 cosy nest as I could have made this I It looked 
 quite snug, with even Kate's untidy things all 
 about ; but as I would have had it, — oh, it is a 
 pity!" 
 
 Of course she gave in, however. 
 
 Evelyn was not to be found until evening, 
 but then he had the assurance of his success 
 from her own lips. He seemed pleased for the 
 moment, but there was no permanent improve- 
 ment in a mood which was incomprehensible, 
 and which she could hardly ever remember to 
 have witnessed before. She coaxed him, hung 
 upon him, fidgeted round him ; was by turns 
 sure he was tired or hungry — and finally settled 
 on the idea that his head ached.
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 241 
 
 She felt that he found the house dull and the 
 evening long, that he did not hear a word of 
 Alice's songs or her own conversation, and — what 
 vexed her more than all besides — that his 
 humour was observed by all. That they should 
 see her neglected was provoking indeed. 
 
 Gradually she grew moody herself, packed Ber- 
 tha off to bed before her time, and begged Alice 
 to shut the piano. The piano or Alice's voice 
 was out of tune, she protested she could not tell 
 which, but they were not together. What a pity it 
 was that Mr Newbattle would sleep in that way 
 after dinner ; she was sure it was bad for him — 
 unwholesome, unrefreshing. How unsociable of 
 dear Kupert to read to himself the whole even- 
 ing. Would he not at least let them share his 
 pleasure by reading aloud 1 They all knew 
 the book, could take him up at any point, if he 
 would only begin. It was too plain it was not 
 for her own delectation she made the request. 
 
 However, he begged off, and to hide his ab- 
 sent-mindedness, still affected study till the 
 welcome hour of breaking up arrived. 
 
 For the next ten days matters went on much 
 the same. 
 
 In vain did Lady Olivia, who concluded that 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTEES. 
 
 her son pined for noise and company, endeavour- 
 industriously to collect such guests as might 
 be induced to favour a quiet Scotch country- 
 house in the last days of October. She was 
 nice in her choice, and those she desired to have 
 would not come. 
 
 Day after day she assured her dolorous guest 
 that things would brighten, that any post might 
 bring acceptations of her invitations, and that 
 he need not fear that they should be by them- 
 selves much longer ; but to no purpose. She 
 could not fulfil her predictions, and to this she 
 attributed the weight upon Evelyn's spirits. 
 
 He seemed to drag through each day. 
 
 He idled, and lounged, and hung about the 
 doors without any apparent object for hours 
 together, and she expected every morning to hear 
 that he could stand the stagnation no longer. 
 
 At length the anticipated words were spoken, 
 he bade them "Good-bye," and could not say 
 when he should next see them again. 
 
 The evening of the same day the little party 
 at the Muirland Farm were startled by a step in 
 the passage, just as the farmer was replacing on 
 its shelf the large old Family Bible which v/as 
 used at evening worship.
 
 A BROTHERLY ADMONITION. 243 
 
 *' See wha's at the door, Lizzie/' said he ; 
 " and, mind you, the door suld hae been steekit 
 at this hoor o' the nicht, — and Hallowe'en nicht 
 tae, when a' the folks are stravagin up and 
 doun." 
 
 " Hey ! — wha's yon ? Captain Evelyn ? " as 
 the latch was lifted ere Lizzie could cross the 
 floor, and there stood in the doorway a laugh- 
 ing, handsome face. 
 
 They were round him in a moment, exclaim- 
 ing, questioning, wondering, and welcoming, as 
 though he had been their own son and brother.
 
 244 
 
 CHAPTEK XII. 
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 
 
 ' days remembered well ! remembered all ! 
 The bitter-sweet, the honey, and the gall. 
 Those garden rambles in the dusky light, 
 Those trees so shady, and that moon so bright. 
 
 And then the hopes that came, and then were gone. 
 Quick as the clouds beneath that moon passed on," 
 
 — Crabbe. 
 
 " An' this on Hallowe'en nicht ! " cried the 
 farmer. "An' we that wadna gang a step to 
 keep it, though twa or three's been in to bid 
 us ! I tell ye. Captain, that the gudewife and 
 me were fain to hae oor nuts to crack, and oor 
 apples to roast, as we did lang syne, for a' we re 
 auld and oor day's gane by ; but no a hait could 
 w^e get either o' thae twa young leddies to fin' 
 it worth their w^hile ! E'en let them be, quo' I, 
 but it's an unco thing to sit and hear naethin' 
 but the sough o' the wund owerheed on Auld
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 245 
 
 Hallowe'en nicht. Aiblins they'll think the 
 same 'ore the nicht's done," slily. 
 
 *^0f course they will. Here have I walked 
 thirty miles to keep it. I am ready to 
 begin " 
 
 " No till you've had your supper, sir ; a 
 hungry man's no fit for junketin'. Lizzie," 
 continued her mother, — but Lizzie had already 
 slipped away, on hospitable thoughts intent. 
 " She'll see to't," said Mrs Comline, content- 
 edly subsiding on the discovery. 
 
 ** Thairty miles ! A' the road frae Carnochan, 
 that is," said the farmer. "Ay, ay, he'll hae 
 been thinkin' mair o' his supper than o' ony 
 auld-warld daffin' as he cam' trampin' ower the 
 Moss o' Glenkens, I'se warrant him. It's a 
 weary lang tramp, yon." 
 
 *' To tell you the truth," said Evelyn, looking 
 up with a glowing eye, " I thought of neither. 
 I could think of nothing else than the poet's 
 glorious ' Scots wha hae,' that found its birth 
 upon that barren moor, and of Kate's voice 
 repeating it. I had a fall in consequence, 
 Kate," turning to her ; " I came down among 
 some wet stones while I stood by a stream 
 that reminded me of ours here, hearkening to
 
 246 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 your ' Let him turn and flee.' You haunted 
 me cruelly all through the Moss ; but as you 
 have allowed me to land here at last, I'll for- 
 give you." 
 
 " There's a glitt upon thae burn-stanes that's 
 dangerous," observed Mr Comline. '^ Ye micht 
 hae hurt yersel'." 
 
 *' If I had, my spirit would still have found 
 its way to the Muirland Farm. Dead or 
 drowned, as they say, I would have kept 
 the tryst I had promised myself to - night. 
 ' Rain, or hail, or fire, or snow ' should not 
 have hindered me." 
 
 "And glad we are, sir, to see ye — and sae 
 sune forbye." 
 
 The worthy farmer thought such haste must 
 surely bode good news. 
 
 '' Soon ? " replied Evelyn. " Do you call it 
 soon ? The past ten days have seemed to me 
 the longest I ever endured. I have not come 
 too soon, have I, Kate ? " 
 
 '' 'Deed no," cried the tender - hearted Mrs 
 Comline, shocked that he should even think of 
 such a thing. " Come ower sune ! Wi'oot it's 
 to tak' frae us oor Missy, there's nae ither way 
 he could come ower sune — is there. Miss Kate ?
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 247 
 
 Eh, my dear, you're rosy red ! But gif ye hae 
 ony messages. Captain, they'll keep. Maybe 
 we'll no be sae blythe to hear them as we 
 micht, shame on me that I suld say sae, for 
 a sair thing it is to " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Evelyn, hurriedly. 
 
 " You are right — perfectly right. We'll talk 
 about those matters by-and-by. How is the 
 burn, Kate 1 And is there a ' brugh about the 
 moon ' to-night, farmer 1 " 
 
 The farmer laughed. " Neither brugh nor 
 moon," he said. " But ye'll no need t'ane nor 
 t'ither. The burn's full, and the wife's just weary- 
 in' for a bonnie troot to put i' the pan. Ye'll no' 
 hae mony mair days, though ; the fushin's maist 
 ower for the season. Come ower sune, quo' he 1 
 I ken what she's sayin'," indicating his gude- 
 wife with his forefinger. ''^Come ower sune? 
 The Captain mun be o' anither pirn afore he 
 could come ower sune, gang whaur he may.' 
 Ay, ay, sir ; welcome, welcome. And as for 
 the water, did ye no' hear the noise o' the falls 
 as ye cam' by ? They hae been a-rummelin' and 
 whummelin' these twa days, till I'm deaved with 
 their dirdums." 
 
 " Is my rod in order, Kate ? "
 
 248 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 *' In order, Captain ? Ye may tak' yer aith 
 o' that," said Mr Comline, who had got into 
 the habit of answering for the party generally. 
 " It's been reeled, an' unreeled, an' rubbit, — 
 ta'en doun and putten up again, — and I dinna 
 ken a' what ! Ilka day it bit to hae something 
 done at it. Tak' my advice, sir, and leavena 
 the keepin' o' a gude troot-rod to be the ploy o' 
 a young leddy anither time. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " I have not spoilt it — indeed I have not," 
 protested Kate. " Mr Comline does not know 
 what he is talking about," saucily. " Mrs Com- 
 line showed me how to polish up the brass, and 
 I spread the line to dry in the sun, and that 
 was all. You will find it quite right to-morrow, 
 Eupert." He had taught her to say his name, 
 and it now came out quite easily, in the pleas- 
 antry of the moment. 
 
 '* If I do not," said Rupert, with a laugh of 
 intelligence, "it will not have been Kate's 
 fault. She took such care of my watch " 
 
 '' Oh, for shame ! " 
 
 '' Ay, ay, we heerd o' that," cried the far- 
 mer, rubbing his knees in ecstasy, — " we heerd 
 o' that. Captain. Lord, to think o' a gude 
 gowd watch lyin' at the bottom o' the burn !
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 249 
 
 'Twas weel it was whaur it glinted i' the sun, 
 or ye micht ne'er hae seen its face mair — or 
 been drooned seekin' it, maist like. It's nane 
 the better for its doukin', I'll daur to say, 
 either." 
 
 " Well, no. It hasn't gone since " 
 
 '' Gudesakes 1 No gaen since ! " 
 
 "That does not signify. Here the time 
 flies — I am glad not to know how fast; at 
 Carnochan it drags — I am glad not to know 
 how slowly." The last sentence was for one 
 ear alone. 
 
 He had Kate all to himself the next day, and 
 was obliged to own that in her cause he had 
 done nothing. Her sitting-room certainly had 
 been regained, but such a trifle was made light 
 of ; he owned — he did not mince matters — but 
 owned honestly that he had not advanced her 
 interests a step. It might almost have seemed 
 as if a little more reticence might have been 
 practised, as if he needed not to have reiterated 
 his conviction that there was no relenting on 
 the part of the oppressor ; but if so, his com- 
 panion showed no signs of finding fault with 
 that, or with anything else he said or did. 
 She gave the subject the go-by. Yes ; she, who
 
 250 TEOUBLESOME DAUGHTEES. 
 
 only a week or two previously could not think, 
 and could scarcely speak of any other, now 
 dismissed it without a sigh ; nor did he find 
 her a whit less lively and light-hearted, after 
 cutting down all her hopes, than she had been 
 before. To a bystander the whole would have 
 been inexplicable. 
 
 The two went off to other topics which had 
 been started and partially discussed on his last 
 visit, and which it seemed one at least, if not 
 both, had been thinking over ever since. This 
 recluse of seventeen had read and reflected on 
 many points whereof her companion was abso- 
 lutely ignorant ; and the pleasure it evidently 
 afforded her to be allowed to open out her mind 
 on these — to find, in her so-called brother, an 
 answering, responsive mind, and to be drawn on 
 and encouraged, instead of being chidden and 
 laughed at — gave alike to herself and her con- 
 versation a fresh charm in Evelyn's eyes. She 
 knew nothing of the world, but she was learned 
 in other lore. She recited to him, with an en- 
 thusiasm that was as novel as it w^as bewitching, 
 poetic pieces, phantasies, dramatic scenes ; and 
 whenever a noble or heart-stirricg sentiment 
 entered in, it was delightful to witness the play
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 251 
 
 of her features, and to hear the tremors of her 
 voice. She was a born actress, he told her. He 
 had said the same before, and had bidden her 
 have some more such recitations ready for him 
 when next he should appear, — which command, 
 we may be sure, was not disobeyed. 
 
 Each day fresh stores were unrolled. When 
 they came down from the hill, he would loiter 
 with her about the shore, or along the straggling 
 overgrown walks of the old-fashioned garden ; 
 and each day found him less and less inclined 
 to quit the wild, isolated spot. 
 
 No one said a word. *' For if onything 
 comes o't after a'," whispered Mr Comline, with 
 a gigantic attempt at solemnity, " I for ane wad 
 say it was the Lord's judgment." 
 
 All now understood that the present attempt 
 at a reconciliation had failed; and although their 
 faith in Evelyn's powers as a mediator might on 
 this account be somewhat shaken, their confi- 
 dence in his having done what he could was such, 
 that they only sought to heap more attentions 
 and more hospitality than ever on his head, in 
 token that they in no wise took to heart his 
 want of success. They were also not a little 
 proud of their visitor. It was something to
 
 252 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 harbour a prince, as- it were, from the ranks 
 of the enemy. 
 
 And then he was no trouble, needed no look- 
 ing after. 
 
 The whole day long he was out with their 
 other visitor ; at evening he joined and was the 
 life of their homely repast ; and afterwards he 
 hung over his "sister's" wheel till bedtime. 
 Then he had his pipe, and turned in, like a 
 respectable, steady-going, reasonable young gen- 
 tleman. As long as he was content, they could 
 not but be proud and happy. 
 
 Three, four, five days passed. 
 
 Evelyn was in the orchard one evening with 
 Kate, in the soft cloudy dusk, and they were 
 picking up the apples which had fallen from the 
 trees, whilst the gulls walked about among the 
 upturned potato - roots, when a little incident 
 occurred. It was a mere nothing — she wished 
 she could give over thinking of it afterwards. 
 It was only that, finding among the long tendrils 
 of the raspberry -bushes a poor little rose-tree of 
 a common kind with one half-blown bud upon it, 
 she had stooped to twist the latter off, and with 
 the usual remark about its being the ''last rose 
 of summer," had tendered it to Evelyn.
 
 THREE, FOUE, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 253 
 
 On taking it he had looked at her — and she 
 could not tell what that look signified. 
 
 She had felt hot and foolish at the moment, 
 and the look kept recurring to her memory 
 from time to time. 
 
 Some hours afterwards, he took the little rose 
 out of his button-hole and laid it on the stand 
 of her spinning-wheel, while with infinite pains 
 and care he cut down a piece of cardboard from 
 which she had unwound some of her yarn, and 
 folded it into the shape of a book ; between its 
 pages was then placed the China rose-bud ; and 
 finally, to keep all straight, a hole was bored on 
 each side — unluckily, good Mrs Comline had left 
 her best scissors within reach — and a piece of 
 the wool Kate was spinning at the moment was 
 broken off for him by her, at his desire, and 
 was drawn through and tied in a knot at the 
 back. When all was complete, he surveyed his 
 work complacently, took out a pencil to write 
 something outside, and put the whole in his 
 pocket. What could it mean ? 
 
 His hand seemed to touch hers more fre- 
 quently than usual as he took his nightly 
 lesson, and yet he did not progress the better 
 for it ; and then at parting he called her to the
 
 254 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 window, and standing behind her there, having 
 thrown back the cumbrous shutters for a moment, 
 bade her watch the sails that were making their 
 way southwards one after another, bowing up 
 and down on the waves as they passed. 
 
 She drew a sigh as she looked. 
 
 '' What is that for, Kate 1 " 
 
 *' On they go," said Kate, dreamily — " on and 
 on. No rest, no staying still, no quiet. They 
 toss and toss " 
 
 *' Well, they toss into harbour at last." 
 
 " Or founder on the rocks." 
 
 " How sadly you speak ! You are thinking 
 that your little bark has foundered somehow ? 
 Eh, was that not it ? Never fear ; she will 
 spread her sail and skim away over the waters 
 yet. She only needs a consort to take her 
 under convoy. Look, do you see those two ? — 
 those are partners ; they go always together ; it 
 is by far the best way. Don't you think so ? 
 What ^ Oh, good night, then." 
 
 " Kate, I have been thinking over a plan," 
 said her brother the next day, — it was wet and 
 windy, and he had been out by himself in the 
 morning. " I have been thinking over a plan ; 
 shall I tell you what it is ? "
 
 FIVE DAYS PASSED. 255 
 
 " Perhaps it is the same as mine/' said Kate, 
 brightly. "I have been thinking over a plan 
 too, Eupert. How strange ! Perhaps they will 
 turn out to be the same." 
 
 " Perhaps/' said Eupert, with rather a pecul- 
 iar smile. " Your turn is first, so begin." 
 
 " Is it about Maidie ? " 
 
 " About Maidie ! Well/' after a moment's 
 pause of surprise — " well, go on. What about 
 Maidie ? " 
 
 *' You told me that Lady Olivia said that she 
 had been ordered sea air. Now, why should 
 they all go off to Brighton — such a long, long 
 way — ^just because Maidie needs sea air ? Here 
 is the most beautiful, the most delightful sea air 
 in the world. Oh, Eupert, do you think you 
 could get them to send Maidie here to me ? I 
 would take such care of her — indeed I would. 
 And I would go on with her lessons. Made- 
 moiselle Pierrepoint might mark out what she 
 was to learn, and — and " 
 
 " And you would be content to remain at the 
 farm ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, as long as they choose, if I had 
 Maidie. I am going to write as I promised, 
 you know," — faltering a little, — " but perhaps
 
 256 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 you would suggest this for me ? I could not 
 do it for myself/' 
 
 '' And this is your plan ? " 
 
 '^ You don't speak as if you thought it a good 
 one ; but if you are afraid that Mr and Mrs 
 Comline might not like it, I am sure you need 
 not be. They are very rich, Eupert ; they have 
 plenty of money ; and Maidie would be a perfect 
 delight to them. She is such a dear little thing. 
 I would not have asked them to have Bertha ; 
 Bertha would not have done here at all ; but 
 Maidie would be no trouble, and she would be 
 so happy " 
 
 " And you would be happy too ? " 
 
 '' Happy *? I should be as happy as the day 
 is long. This dear old place, with its rocks and 
 waves and sea-birds — I love it so much " 
 
 "I had no idea of that. I rather gathered 
 you were pining here when first I came. Car- 
 nochan was all in all then, — or I was very dull 
 of apprehension." 
 
 " I — I have got used to it," panting a little 
 under his eye ; " it has seemed more homelike 
 lately." 
 
 " You underrated your blessings until I came 
 to point them out ? Now to my mind this old
 
 THREE, FOUE, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 257 
 
 farmhouse on the cliff, with its ruined orchard 
 and battered-down trees, this curious out-of-the- 
 world region, is the most perfect place to winter 
 in I ever saw. There are the marshes above for 
 snipe and woodcock, and the little tarn beyond 
 for teal — Brewster is off for the season, so any- 
 body could get leave to shoot — besides all sorts 
 of stray birds about the shore ; and there are 
 the herring to go after, — by the way, I must find 
 out when those boats go out again — it would 
 be rare sport when the takes are good ; and the 
 sparlings — I should go after the sparlings too — 
 they are all about those sandy banks." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I understand. It is not the old 
 orchard and the battered-down trees that are 
 the attraction ; it is the shooting and fishing.'' 
 
 He did not altogether dispute the charge ; 
 good sport certainly did enhance the charms 
 of every locality, — but still he liked the farm. 
 Would she come for a walk along the cliffs ? 
 
 She had never yet shown him the hermit's 
 cave, and he had been promised a sight of that 
 curiosity every day. Although it was showery, 
 he knew she would not mind a wetting ; the 
 tide was up, and everything was propitious. 
 
 As they walked along she was full of her new 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 plan — so full indeed, that it escaped her notice 
 how completely she had the conversation in her 
 own hands. Beyond a good - natured remark, 
 designed to draw her on, Evelyn neither en- 
 couraged the idea nor threw cold water on it. 
 She could not gain his opinion. 
 
 She had his hand, his eye, his care over every 
 stile, or streamlet finding its way oceanwards ; 
 but directly she resumed her monologue he re- 
 mained impassive, and the expression with which 
 he heard her was inscrutable. 
 
 His own scheme, he declared, could wait ; he 
 would disclose it presently. 
 
 At length they descended to the side of the 
 roaring surge. 
 
 The tide was at its height, and more than 
 once during their walk they had paused to 
 admire the flying spray which shot into the air 
 from unseen breakers beneath ; and now, on a 
 level with the water, and standing as they did 
 on a headland jutting out sharply into the midst 
 of the billows, they could behold on both sides 
 miles and miles of the foaming sea-line. 
 
 The heavens — which, heavily clouded, formed 
 a dark background for the white wings of tern 
 and sea-gulls — just lifted above the wild horizon ;
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 259 
 
 the soft south wind which blew in their faces, 
 brought with it a fresh scent of weed and sea- 
 moss; .and to Evelyn, who was susceptible to 
 such influences, no perfume had ever seemed so 
 fragrant, no scene so striking or romantic. 
 
 He spoke at last. 
 
 " I could live and die here,'' he exclaimed. 
 " Kate, you are right. The crowded haunts of 
 men are a delusion and a snare. Nothing we 
 find there can compete with what Nature offers 
 us in a sight like this. Dear Kate, how shall I 
 thank you for bringing me such happiness ? I 
 owe you a debt of gratitude which I long to 
 repay." He bent over her as he spoke, and, 
 not until after a short pause, drew up his head 
 agaiu. 
 
 When at length he did, it was seen that the 
 uncovered face beneath was crimson from brow 
 to lip. He had kissed her ; and confused and 
 agitated as she was by such a caress, she could 
 not at the moment know how to meet it. 
 
 " Forgive me," said Evelyn, as though in 
 surprise. " I have offended you ? " (His tone 
 expressed, " But why should you be offended 1 
 It was surely a natural and simple thing to do. 
 No harm was meant.")
 
 260 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Nevertheless, although comprehending what 
 was thus implied, she could only faintly stam- 
 mer a denial. 
 
 " But why, then, did you blush so deeply ? " 
 
 '' I — I am not used to it.'' 
 
 ^' Never grow used to it then, Kate. Kisses 
 on a phlegmatic cheek are not worth a sou as 
 compared to one on this" — touching it again. 
 " Now tell me," continued Evelyn, gaily, " was 
 not that a truly cool, condescending, fraternal 
 salute ? Am not I a model of the patronising 
 big brother ? Kind, benignant, and affectionate, 
 when he is in good-humour, and even willing to 
 be propitiated when he is lawfully irate 1 I 
 think you will give me a good character, Kate. 
 I think you will allow that I deserve your re- 
 commendation. As long as you don't bother 
 me, and don't tell tales of me, and don't get in 
 my way, I am as nice and pleasant to you as 
 any man in my position can be to a troublesome 
 little sister whom every one else tries to get rid 
 of ; now, am I not ? " 
 
 They had reached the mouth of the cave as 
 he spoke, taking refuge from a shower which 
 had been driving towards them before the wind, 
 and which was now drenching all the open
 
 THREE, FOUE, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 261 
 
 shore, — and as little as she regarded its noisy 
 clatter on the stones outside, did Kate regard his 
 words as he drew her into the sheltering cavern. 
 She could only feel the touch of his arm, which 
 continued to encircle her as they sat down, and 
 wonder how it spoke a language so different. 
 
 " Well, what do you say ? " continued Evelyn. 
 " Eh *? I'm afraid you don't look upon it in 
 that light ? '' 
 
 His only answer was an uneasy movement. 
 
 " There is something going on within your 
 mind," pursued he, stooping forward to see all 
 he could, " which had best have vent, Kate. I 
 know the symptoms. Don't be afraid ; pluck up 
 spirit, and have it out. Come,'^ and he would 
 have embraced her a third time. 
 
 "No, don't," said Kate, angrily. "I don't 
 like it." 
 
 His arm dropped from her side. 
 
 " And — and I won't suffer it," she continued, 
 with increased energy. 
 
 He sat mute. 
 
 ** Rupert, how could you ? " broke forth the 
 speaker, passionately. '' You that I trusted, 
 and hoped so much from 1 You that seemed 
 to be the only friend I had left in the world !
 
 262 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 You should not have treated me so. I am not 
 your sister — you are not my brother. Let me 
 alone." 
 
 "You are not my sister — I am not your 
 brother ; is that to be so 1 Finally ? " 
 
 '' Yes ; it is." 
 
 " Then hear me," said Evelyn, his own colour 
 rising, and his tone changing — " Miss Newbattle, 
 hear me. Eemember that such a position was 
 none of my seeking. It was offered to me, and 
 I accepted it. When first I saw you, Kate — 
 when first I knew who you were — I was well 
 enough satisfied to be given a brother s priv- 
 ileges, and you were pleased that I should claim 
 them. You see that the idea is a farce now ? 
 So do I. I repudiate the position. You start ? 
 But I do. I declare to you that I would not 
 have you for my sister if I could. Be my wife, 
 or nothing." 
 
 He clasped her again in his arms, and kissed 
 her as often as he would. 
 
 The tide had receded a pace ere either spoke 
 again, and then it was but low ejaculations and 
 tender epithets which were murmured among 
 the echoes of the rocky canopy.
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 263 
 
 At length Evelyn raised his head and spoke 
 more briskly. " Your little plot that filled your 
 little imagination this morning must fall to the 
 ground, Kate ; the time has come for me to un- 
 fold mine. It bears a curious resemblance to 
 yours, do you know '? In every point but one 
 the two are precisely similar. You propose to 
 remain here for a while ? I propose that you 
 should. You desire a companion ? I approve 
 of your having one. You wish for your sister ? 
 I offer — myself." 
 
 " You, Kupert ? You 1 " 
 
 *' And why not 1 1 The teal and the wood- 
 cock were not such first-rate considerations as 
 you profanely declared them, but still they may 
 come in handy. Maidie could not take you the 
 wanderings over moor and mountain that I shall 
 do. Nor would she learn to spin any more 
 deftly, Kate. Choose between us, then. Which 
 will you have '? " 
 
 " It is a dream," said Kate, putting her hand 
 to her eyes," — a dream. Talk to me, Eupert. 
 Tell me really what you mean. I cannot think 
 — I cannot understand — will you stay here 1 — 
 heref" 
 
 ''Even so, Kate. Here, — if you will have
 
 264 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 me. And so you think it is a dream, do you 1 
 A dream that a very minor prophet might have 
 forecast, I should say. Who could meet you, 
 beautiful, lonely, nearly broken-hearted, without 
 longing to be your comforter '? — and as for you, 
 why, my poor child, you had no chance when I 
 was here without a rival, and with nobody to 
 warn you off the foolish, good-for-nothing fel- 
 low.'' He smiled proudly. 
 
 *' And you will not go away again ? " 
 " Not yet awhile, any way. Why, Kate, 
 what a life we shall lead down here, away 
 from all the world — nobody knowing, nobody 
 dreaming of our happiness ! I will take you 
 out on moonlight nights, my wild sea-mew, 
 when the waves are booming along the shore, 
 as they are doing now ; and we will take 
 boat with the fishermen, — yes, you shall go 
 in those very boats we saw last night, when 
 they don't go too far out, — and we will learn 
 their songs, Kate, and sing them to each other. 
 And I will tell you tales, my child, of the great 
 world that you have never seen ; and you shall 
 read to me your strange old poets, and rave as 
 you did on the moor last night. You shall read 
 Shakespeare too ; you shall be my Juliet, — my
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 265 
 
 Portia, — my Kate, whose Petruchio would not 
 have tamed her if he could ! Shall it be so, 
 then ? Speak, Kate — I can listen to you now ; 
 .take up the theme, dear, and let me hear what 
 you can say about it. Why are you so still ? 
 Have I frightened my darling ? Have I been 
 too quick, too hasty ? Forgive me, sweet ; I 
 will try to be more gentle. Is there more the 
 matter yet 1 What is it ? " 
 
 " I do not — understand." 
 
 '' Let me teach you.'' 
 
 " I cannot think '' 
 
 " Let me think for you." 
 
 " Is it- '' She stopped afresh. 
 
 " What a puzzled little face ! And I am not to 
 touch it ? Well, what is all this about ? Why 
 are those eyes turned on me so imploringly ? I 
 shall satisfy them, shall I not, Kate ? I am not 
 afraid. Speak on." 
 
 "It is all so strange." 
 
 " Strange ? " repeated Evelyn, not unflattered 
 by her timidity. " Strange ? Well, I daresay it 
 is. I have taken you rather by storm, have I 
 And you thought I was doing my best to get 
 you received back at Carnochan, you poor little 
 dupe. What should I want you back there for ?
 
 266 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 We are far better off here. They don't want us, 
 and we don't want them, so everybody is satis- 
 fied all round." 
 
 " But we shall have to write, and oh, Eupert ! 
 what shall we say 1 " 
 
 " Time enough to think of that when we do 
 write," said Evelyn, lightly. " Sufficient unto 
 the day, you know : look here, little one, it 
 would be uncommonly disagreeable for both of 
 us to be hailed back to Carnochan just at pres- 
 ent, wouldn't it ? Well, if we have to begin at 
 the beginning, make our prosy explanations, 
 together with all the nuisance of confessing our 
 little fraud so far, that will be the inevitable 
 result; and, good Heavens, Kate, think of the 
 scenes that would follow ! You could not stand 
 them, — no more could I. The paternal bless- 
 ing on such occasions is bad enough, but the 
 maternal other thing, especially as coming from 
 Lady Olivia, would be a few degrees worse." 
 
 " Would it ? She — she would not approve, 
 then?" 
 
 He laughed, looked into her eyes and laughed 
 again. " I thought you had been too clever for 
 such a question, Kate 1 " 
 
 " Would she be very angry, Rupert 1 "
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 267 
 
 "Aye, that's better : I can answer you there. 
 Yes, my little innocent, I think I may venture 
 to say she would be very angry. So long as I 
 am not there to see, I don't find that that afilicts 
 me in any extraordinary manner. I think I 
 can survive the thought of her despair. How 
 shamefully she has used you, my poor little one, 
 leaving you here to fret and cry, while she 
 triumphs in your place ! Cheer up, Kate ! no 
 more tears ; we shall cheat them all." 
 
 " Cheat ! " She repeated the word as though 
 it had struck her a blow. 
 
 " While they think your existence is a burden 
 under the weight of their displeasure, and that 
 all the life and the spirit is gettiog crushed 
 out of this little heart by slow torture, — we, to- 
 gether, shall be making merry at their expense ! 
 We shall be laughing at them from our hiding- 
 place ! Perhaps now and then I may go over 
 and see how they are getting on — walking in, as 
 it were, from far-off places, when we are actually 
 under their very noses all the time ! It would 
 be awkward if you were to be sent for ; but I 
 can take care to prevent that, I think. They 
 are off to Brighton for the present, and we can 
 invent excuses by-and-by. You must not write
 
 268 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 too contentedly ; you must not let them see you 
 are too happy, — we must keep up the show of 
 dissatisfaction/' 
 
 "And this is to go on/' said Kate, slowly, 
 "for how longr' 
 
 " Why do you ask ? You are already afraid 
 of being tired of me '? The prospect wearies 
 you ? " He paused for a disclaimer. 
 
 None came. 
 
 " Is that it, Kate ? Can that be it ? I hardly 
 expected " 
 
 " No, Rupert ; that is not it ; but — but it is 
 so hard to explain. If it were only for a week 
 or so, and we were to tell them everything after- 
 wards " 
 
 "My dear girl!" 
 
 " The longer we keep back the truth the more 
 diflScult we make it to be open when the time 
 comes," said Kate, with a touch of the old im- 
 periousness Carnochan knew so well. " Why 
 should we not be honest from the beginning ? " 
 
 " Because we have not been honest from the 
 beginning ; and what's past can't be undone. 
 Aha, Madam Kate ! I had you there." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "Don't you see," continued Evelyn, rather
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 269 
 
 hurriedly, — " don't you see, dear, the only course 
 that is now left open to us ? We must meet at 
 Carnochan — when you do return there, — we 
 must meet, as it were, for the first time. We 
 shall be presented to each other in due form ; 
 and our acquaintance will subsequently ripen, 
 after a proper and discreet fashion. At first it 
 will be advisable to be rather shy and formal, — 
 reserved, — no, distant — that is the word. In 
 short, you may behave precisely as you once 
 did, and as you would do still, were we to meet 
 as strangers. Both of us will require all the 
 presence of mind and ready wit we conjointly 
 possess, remember ; but I think we shall manage 
 somehow : I think I can trust my little fellow- 
 conspirator. Then, by-and-by, the constraint 
 between us may wear off by slow degrees, and 
 we may begin to be friendly. Why do you 
 look at me so, Kate ? Never do you fear but 
 what I shall find plenty of opportunities for 
 throwing off the mask, — trust me for that. I 
 think I can call to mind already more than one 
 hide-and-seek corner that will answer our pur- 
 pose. And the beauty of the whole thing is, 
 that*we need never to the last day of our lives 
 make an awkward disclosure. In due time I
 
 270 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 shall apply to your father, and after that all will 
 go on as it always does, I suppose. At least, our 
 little romance will remain our own." 
 
 " And you would play a part like that ? " said 
 Kate, in a low, unnatural voice ; " and you 
 would have me play it too ? " 
 
 '' And who could play it better 1 You have 
 quite the talent. I am not afraid for you. I 
 think I see you when some unlucky allusion is 
 made. You will throw it aside so deftly, that 
 I shall scarcely be able to refrain from a smile 
 of approval. I shall not be half so smart my- 
 self, I fear ; but I will do my best." 
 
 " Everything I did would be a deception, and 
 every word I spoke a lie " 
 
 "Hut-tut ; that's strong language. I shall think 
 that I have got ' Naughty Kate ' back again ! " 
 
 "I am to act one perpetual falsehood, — and 
 that not only here but there. There," said Kate 
 with growing excitement in her voice and man- 
 ner, — "there, where they all know how I have 
 begged for truth, — how I would not allow the 
 little ones to quibble and palter as Alice would 
 have taught them to do, — there I am to go about 
 among them, myself the falsest thing about the 
 place ! Even if we were never found out, we
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 27 1 
 
 should be in constant fear of detection. Any 
 moment something might happen " 
 
 " No, no ; we shall take care to prevent that." 
 . " Could I ever look my father or sisters in the 
 face "' 
 
 " Oh yes ; after a while — perfectly well." 
 
 "My own dead mother " 
 
 " Dear Kate, she " 
 
 "And the end and object of all this," pro- 
 ceeded Kate, unheeding, "what a mean and 
 cowardly one it is ! We are to flinch from a 
 momentary disagreeable at the expense of our 
 honour ! Think, Eupert, how foolish, how 
 blind ; — a mere momentary disagreeable ! " 
 
 " All very fine. Yes, my dear Kate, you lay 
 a most excellently scornful accent on the words ; 
 but ' a mere momentary disagreeable ' sounds a 
 thousand times less charming from Lady Olivia's 
 lips than from yours ; I can assure you of that, 
 from the experience of a lifetime. Such 'mo- 
 mentary disagreeables ' have a trick of length- 
 ening out ad infinitum on these occasions. I 
 know what it would be." 
 
 "And to escape it you would degrade us 
 both? Whatever you dread, it could not be 
 so bad as that ? "
 
 272 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 " Dread 1 Nonsense. That is, you really 
 do not know what you are talking about, you 
 silly child, and need some one to take you in 
 hand. Come, don't pout; I see I shall have 
 to lecture you again, as I did last time I was 
 at the farm. I thought I had brought you 
 fairly well into subjection on that occasion, 
 but you are a tough little customer. Why, I 
 declare, she's in the pet already ! " 
 
 It was the last thing he ought to have said. 
 
 " That is enough ; that will do," cried Kate, 
 passionately. " I see we shall never understand 
 each other. Is this the happiness you promised 
 me ? I thank you, Kupert, but it — it-^" strug- 
 gling for composure, ^^ it is not such as I care to 
 possess. Is this what is to make me forget the 
 past ? The past would haunt me day and night. 
 Don't speak to me, don't touch me, — I will never 
 listen to you again." 
 
 " Kate ! My child ! " His tone changed to 
 one of tender remonstrance. 
 
 " I am not your child. Take away your 
 hand. Oh, how could this hand deal me such 
 misery ! " 
 
 '' Kate, Kate, what are you saying ? " 
 
 "That which I will never unsay. I have
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 273 
 
 been deceived in you, — in you who seemed to 
 me so good, so noble. You made me love you, 
 — I did not want to love you. You found 
 me out, — I never asked you to come. And I 
 thought, I thought — but it does not matter; 
 I see it all now ; I am blind no longer. God 
 forgive you, Kupert, for all this ! " 
 
 " My darling ! " 
 
 " Hush ! — not now. I am nothing to you 
 now. You renounced me as a sister, and I will 
 not be your wife." 
 
 '' You will, Kate, when you hear me " 
 
 " And therefore I will not hear you," said 
 she, springing to her feet. "Let me go. We 
 are only wasting time now ; let me go, Eupert." 
 
 (" Well," thought Evelyn, " here is an ado ! 
 Who would have thought that her devil of a 
 temper would have stepped in in this way ? It's 
 ridiculous. I shan't give in ; so she must ; and 
 that's all about it.") *' I should not have sup- 
 posed you were a person to be tormented by 
 an over-scrupulous conscience," he could not 
 resist saying at last : ^' leave that for others, 
 Kate ; it is not for you." 
 
 The emphasis on the " you," slight though it 
 was, was too much. It stung the high-souled 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 27 4 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 girl to the quick. ** What !" she cried out ; '' you 
 mean that I am already undutiful and miser- 
 able enough ? That I am ready enough to 
 yield to temptation of any kind, be it what it 
 may ? That I have been turned away from 
 my father's doors ^because I was a disgrace and 
 a trouble to them ? And you thought that I 
 — whom you yourself reproached for my evil 
 passions and temper — was ripe for any revenge '? 
 Was that what you meant, Eupert ? Oh, Ku- 
 pert, did you really mean that ? " she sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 '^ I scarcely know what I mean, Kate. You 
 will not attend to what I say '* 
 
 '' No, I will not." 
 
 " And you are transported out of yourself, 
 by giving way to these ungovernable fancies. 
 You are not in a fit state to consider any ques- 
 tion calmly ; believe me, you are not. You 
 yourself acknowledge that your — your excit- 
 able temperament is apt to mislead you. It 
 never did so more than in the present instance. 
 Then why will you not put yourself in my 
 hands -? " 
 
 " Eupert, I fear God. I have disobeyed Him, 
 dishonoured Him, rebelled against Him, and
 
 THEEE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 275 
 
 forsaken Him — but still I am His. ' I will arise 
 and go to my Father, and will say unto Him, 
 Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and 
 before Thee, and am no more worthy — no 
 
 more worthy ' '' her voice w^as lost in 
 
 weeping. 
 
 No other sound broke the silence of the cave ; 
 for Evelyn, awed by the extent of the emotions 
 he had himself awakened, and hopeless of re- 
 gaining the ascendancy he had lost during the 
 first half-hour, was now gloomily silent, whilst 
 debating what course he should next pursue. 
 
 It was still raining heavily without ; but Kate, 
 apparently without being aware of what she 
 was doing, presently began to move towards 
 the entrance of the cave, as thouo^h intendino: 
 to escape from the presence of her companion. 
 
 Common humanity prompted him to call her 
 back, especially as the shawl, which had slipped 
 from her shoulders as she broke from, his hold, 
 remained on the ground; and the thin cotton 
 frock, which had been a part of her wardrobe 
 on coming to the farm in all the mildness of 
 the late summer, w^as but a poor protection 
 against a smart autumnal shower. 
 
 His summons, however, had no effect. It
 
 276 TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. 
 
 was either unheard or disregarded ; and he was 
 obliged to follow ignominiously, and seek to 
 detain the fugitive by other means. 
 
 She thrust him aside. 
 
 The manner of her doing so was such, that 
 even his patience gave way at last, and he 
 frowned contemptuously. "Don't be foolish. 
 You need not be afraid that I shall trangress 
 again. You may permit me to put a covering 
 on you. Miss Newbattle, without feeling anxiety. 
 I have only one thing to say, and that is, that 
 I presume even your candour will hardly think 
 it necessary to inform your parent and mine of 
 this piece of folly ? It would not be pleasant 
 for either of us, — probably you will not regard 
 that, — but still, as a personal favour to me, — 
 for their sakes, — or on any other grounds you 
 like to consider worthy, — I must beg that if 
 you can keep the secret, you will." 
 
 '' I will." 
 
 " What is the matter 1 You are ill '? " cried 
 Evelyn, struck by her tone. "Good heavens, 
 what a brute I am ! Kate, I did not mean it, 
 I did not know what I was saying. Kate, dear 
 Kate, forgive me, — speak to me. God ! what 
 have I done '? "
 
 THREE, FOUR, FIVE DAYS PASSED. 277 
 
 The cheek which had approached hers, as his 
 terrified senses became aware of something 
 strangely, dreadfully wrong, was all at once 
 wetted by something warm, — it was blood, 
 which was flowing from a broken vessel. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND S0N3,
 
 
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