/^ EX LIBRIS UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY Class Book Volume Je 06-lOM Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. A charge is made on all overdue books. U. of I. Library HAS V?/3\ 11148-S MISS FERRIER'S NOVELS EDITED BY REGINALD BRIMLEY JOHNSON IN SIX VOLUMES VOL. V. DESTINY VOL. I THE ^^^E/ ^NOVELS or_/^|&v. •FERJRIHR m IN • SIX • VOLUMES • DESTINY. ^ VOL • I \fnTH 1NTR0DUCTIO7V BY- R BY- iVTELL Y • KKJCHS5IM B & n ^ ?;i3 aI Fiici u t ISfH L V,l LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Florinda's quarrel with Reginald . page 14 This, Edith, is a ring of betrothment „ 180 Florinda's triumph on the harp . ,,321 87946 DESTINY. Chapter J* Every chieftain is a monarch. Dr Johnson's Journey to the Western Isles. ALL the world knows there is nothing on earth to be compared to a Highland chief. He has his loch and his islands, his mountains and his castle, his piper and his tartan, his forests and his deer, his thousands of acres of untrodden heath, and his tens of thousands of black-faced sheep, and his bands of bonneted clansmen, with claymores, and Gaelic, and hot blood, and dirks. All these, and more, had the Chief of Glenroy ; for he had a family-tree, upon which all the birds of the air might have roosted. Dr Johnson, to be sure, has said that there are no such things as family-trees in the Highlands ; but the Doctor's calumnies against trees of every description, or rather of no description, through- out Scotland, are too well known to require refutation. Glenroy, therefore, had a tree ; and as for his rent- roll, it was like a journey in a fairy tale, " longer, and longer, and longer, than I can tell." However, as the 2 DESTINY. Chief himself was not particular in ascertaining the pre- cise amount of his income, but lived as if the whole Highlands and Islands, with their kelp and black cattle, had been at his disposal, it would ill become his biographer to pry into the state of his affairs for the gratification of the curious. Suffice it therefore to say, that the Chief of Glenroy lived in a style which was deemed suitable to his rank and fortune by all — and they were neither few nor far between — who partook of his hospitality. In person, as in fortune, Glenroy had been equally gifted. He was a tall, handsome man, with fine regular features, a florid complexion, an open, but haughty countenance, and a lofty, though somewhat indolent air. The inward man was much what the outward man denoted. He was proud, prejudiced, and profuse ; he piqued himself upon the antiquity of his family, the heroic deeds of his ancestors, the extent of his estates, the number of his followers, their physical strength, their devoted attachment. On the other hand, he was of an open temper, of a social disposition, liberal to his tenantry, generous to his dependents, and hospitable to all. His manners, though somewhat coarse, were by no means vulgar ; and, when a little under control, he could be both pleasing and gentlemanly in his deportment. His supremacy being universally acknowledged throughout the extensive district where his possessions lay, he bore his faculties with that sort of indolent pomp which betokens undisturbed power. He felt himself a great man ; and though he did not say even to himself that he was the greatest man in the world, he certainly would have been puzzled to say who was greater. Such was Glenroy ; and with all these advantages, it was naturally expected that he would form an alliance worthy of himself and his clan, all of whom identified themselves with their Chief, and consequently looked DESTINY. 3 upon his marriage as an event in which they had an undoubted interest. As it was impossible, however, that any one so great in himself could make a great marriage, his friends and followers, being reasonable people, merely expected that he would make the best marriage possible. Greater speculation could scarcely have been excited at the court of King Ahasuerus as to a successor to the rebellious Vashti, than that which prevailed amongst the clan on the subject of forming a suitable alliance for their Chief. Each had his favourite and exalted fair, in one or other of the most illustrious Scottish families, on whom he conceived that Glenroy should place his affections. But vain are the schemes of man ! Instead of these glorious results, Glenroy did what many wiser men have done before him ; he fell in love, and made what was called, a " most unaccountable marriage ; " for he married a merely pretty girl of neither family nor fortune, the orphan daughter of a poor hundredth cousin of his own. The fact was, Glenroy was too proud to consider it a matter of much importance whom he married : he could derive no consequence from his wife ; his wife must owe all her dignity to him. This was a blow to the clan, which all the youth, beauty, and sweetness of the lady could not reconcile them to ; and it was not till the birth of an heir that they recovered their spirits. But then bonfires blazed — bagpipes played — tartans waved, — whisky flowed — all, in short, was done to welcome to this vain world an heir to its vanities. Alas ! how short - sighted are sometimes even second - sighted mortals ! At the end of two years a daughter was born, but far otherwise was her birth commemorated. A lifeless mother — a widowed father — a funeral procession — tears, regrets, lamentations, and woe — these were the symbols that marked her entrance into life, and cast a DESTINY. gloom upon her Infant days. The child was christened Edith, after its mother, and so ended Glenroy's first attempt at connubial happiness. CbatJtct ij. It is not good To be alone, although alone to be Is freedom ; so are men in deserts free. Whatever ills a married pair betide, Each feels a stay, a comfort, and a guide ; " Not always comfort " will our wits reply. Wits are not judges, nor the cause shall try. Crabbe. GLENROY mourned the loss of his wife as much as it was in his nature to do ; but he was not the man to either live with a breaking heart, or to die of a broken one. In due time, therefore, it occurred to him, that, great as his loss appeared to be, it was nevertheless one which might be repaired. But, too proud and indolent to take any measures for the accomplishment of his design, he left it entirely to time, chance, or circumstances, to carry it into effect ; and these did seem to conspire to bring it to pass. During an occasional visit to London, he more than once happened to find himself in parties where he was so much in the background, that but for the notice of the Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, he would have passed almost unobserved. Great as Glenroy was, he there- fore found he was capable of being still greater : yet greatness by means of a wife — a woman — and that wife an Englishwoman ! — this was a startling thought to the proud Chief. But his stay in town was protracted : he continued to meet the Lady Elizabeth, who was so very affable and agreeable — such an enthusiastic admirer of DESTINY. 5 tartan and Highland bonnets, and Highland scenery, that Glenroy was captivated ; and he even came to the conclusion that he* v/ould not be the worse for being connected with some of the highest families in the kingdom. Then although Lady Elizabeth was some- what ^^jj-/^, she was still a showy-looking woman, quite suitable to him in point of years, and more likely to make a good staid stepmother than a younger wife would have been. To be sure, she was not very bright ; but Glenroy hated clever women, they were all so managing and manoeuvring : in short, from an admirer, the Chief became a suitor, and thought him- self a lucky man wiien he was the accepted lover. Had Glenroy been better acquainted with the character and circumstances of the lady, he would not have been quite so much elated with his good fortune. Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave was sister to the Marquis of Heywood, and widow of the Honourable Edward Waldegrave, a fashionable spendthrift, who had closed a brief career of folly, leaving his widow and infant daughter to the charity of relations. It may be supposed, then, that Lady Elizabeth's circumstances were any thing but affluent. She was, in fact, struggling to keep her place in society upon a small annuity from her father-in-law. Lord Waldegrave, who, having had to pay largely for the extravagance of his son, was little inclined to be liberal to his widow and child. Glenroy's proposals, therefore, came in good time ; and the union being of course warmly approved of by the lady's family and connections, no obstacle stood in the way ; so that as soon as the lawyers and milliners had done their parts, the marriage was celebrated with the utmost eclat. On the one side, there was a special licence, the presence of a prince of the blood, the benediction of an arch- bishop, with peers and peeresses, lace and pearls, a magnificent saloon, an elegant dejeuner, a line of 6 DESTINY. splendid equipages, 8cc. Such was the scene in St James' Square ; while, at the Glenroy Arms, the event was celebrated by a numerous meetirfg of the tenantry, and vassals of the chief, with " barbaric pomp ; " a roasted ox, and half a score sheep, barrels of ale and bowls of whisky, long speeches, loud shouting, toasting, cheering, bonfires, bagpipes, and the Highland fling. Much as Glenroy loved pomp and retinue, he was somewhat startled at the magnitude of his lady's bridal train. In addition to his own travelling carriage and servants, there followed Miss Waldegrave's equipage, containing that young lady, about five years of age, her French governess, and English sub-governess, and attended by her own maid, and the Lady Elizabeth's footmen. Glenroy thought less might have served her ; but it was too soon, or rather too late, to say so ; and Lady Elizabeth expatiated largely upon the goodness of old Lord Waldegrave, in allowing her to take his favourite son's only child to Scotland with her. The Chief tried to feel sufficiently grateful for the favour conferred upon him in this addition to his family ; but, in spite of himself, he felt something like shame at this importation to Glenroy. The arrival of the new married pair was celebrated with great rejoicings. Lady Eliza- beth was dressed in the clan-tartan, wore a Highland bonnet, looked well, made a speech, and was at once pronounced to be a most charming woman. But scarcely were the rejoicings over, before Glenroy began to suspect that he had not drawn the capital prize in the marriage-lottery ; and these his first faint misgivings began to assume a less questionable shape, as the features of the lady's post-nuptial character became to be more fully developed. At length they boldly resolved themselves into tastes, habits, and pursuits of the most decided dissimilarity from her husband's. How it happened that this discovery had not been DESTINY. 7 made before marriage instead of after, was one of those mysteries which, though of common occurrence, had never yet been fully cleared up to the satisfaction of single-minded people. Whence it is that two persons, who seem to have been born only to hate each other, should, under any circumstances, ever fancy that they actually love each other, is a phenomenon which even philosophers may have encountered, but which they certainly have not yet explained. No two human beings born and bred in a civilised country could be more different than the Chief and his lady; and as both were independent, and both had arrived at years of discretion, it seemed but natural that they should remain as fate seemed to place them — perfect antipodes. The lady had been accustomed to a gay London life, and she had also lived abroad. She had seen much of the world, and the world had seen much of her. She had been admired for her talents, her manners, her music, her taste, her dress ; and although the admiration had long been on the wane, the craving still continued. She was, in fact, when without her adventitious aids, a mere showy, superficial, weak woman, with a fretful temper, irritable nerves, and a constitution tending to rheumatism, which she imputed entirely to the climate of Scotland. In direct opposition to all this, Glenroy detested London ; despised every part of the globe save Scot- land ; hated all music except that of the bagpipe ; had little enjoyment in any society but that of his friends and followers ; and when he spoke of the world, meant only his own country and clan. He had also become subject to attacks of the gout, which he ascribed to his visits to London, and therefore vowed he never would set foot in it again. Although Glenroy saw much good company at his hospitable mansion, yet it was only during a short period 8 DESTINY. of the year ; for the Highlands may be said to open for the season as the King's Theatre shuts ; and, thanks to grouse and deer, the one has become almost as fashion- able a place of amusement as the other. During this season, therefore, Lady Elizabeth lived pretty much in her own element ; but when that was over, a long and dreary interval ensued : not that the house ever emptied of visitors, be the season or weather what they might, but the company was not suited to her taste, for it must be owned Glenroy was not nice in the choice of his associates. Although his vanity was gratified with occasionally entertaining the best in the land, still the same principle, together with his love of ease, made him prefer in general being what is called the king of his company. Amongst sundry of his adherents, whose persons and manners were particularly obnoxious to the Lady Eliza- beth, the most offensive was the Laird of Benbov/ie, a friend and clansman of the Chief's, who, from having been all his life in the habit of paying long and frequent visits at the castle, had gradually become domesticated there, to the infinite annoyance of its mistress. The Laird of Benbowie was an elderly man, of the most ordinary exterior, possessing no very distinguishable traits, except a pair of voluminous eyebrows, very round shoulders, a wig that looked as if it had been made of spun yarn, an unvarying snuff-coloured coat, and a series of the most frightful waistcoats that ever were seen. Benbowie's mental characteristics were much upon a par with his personal peculiarities. He was made up of stupidities. He was sleepy-headed and absent. He chewed tobacco, snored in presence, slobbered when he ate, walked up and down with a pair of creaking shoes, and drummed upon the table with a snuffy hand. Nay, more ; with that same obnoxious snuffy hand he actually dared to pat the head or shoulder of the elegant, refined. DESTINY. Miss Waldegrave, as often as she came within his reach. But all these things were mere leather and prunella to his Chief, whose feelings and perceptions were by no means so refined as his lady's. Benbowie was the very- apple of his eye, for he was devoted to him. He never contradicted him, or rather he invariably coincided with him. He rode with him, or walked with him, or sailed with him, or sat still with him. He played at backgam- mon with him, and when there was no one else, did well enough to be beaten at billiards. Yet no one could call Benbowie a hanger-on ; for he had a good estate, and a pretty place of his own, both of which he neglected for the sake of living with his friend ; and although he was not profuse of his own money, yet, to do him justice, he was equally sparing of his Chief's. What pleasure or profit Glenroy could find in Ben- bowie's company no one could discover. But so it was, and Glenroy could have better spared a better man ; although, if pressed for a reason of his preference, he could only have resolved it into that unanswerable argument, "Je I'aime parceque c'est lui," &c. Lady Elizabeth had at once attempted to expel Benbowie from the house ; but she might as well have attempted to move one of his own brown mountains. Benbowie was invulnerable in his stupidity and obtuseness, and nothing less than the united efforts of the fairy and the genie, who lifted up Prince Camaralzaman, and carried him a thousand leagues without waking him, could have made Benbowie dream of leaving a house where habit had completely domesticated him, and where his instinct made him feel comfortable and happy. Some one has well said, " Lorsquon ne pent eteindre une lumiere, on s^ en laisse eclairer ;^' but Lady Elizabeth did not adopt this wise maxim. She could not ex- tinguish Benbowie's light, faint and dark as it was, neither would she permit it to shine even in its native lO DESTINY. dim eclipse. The consequence was, that poor Ben- bowie, who seemed to have been bom without a single spark of fire in his composition, became a sort of smouldering brand in the family of his friend. As neither the Chief nor his lady were young enough to be moulded anew, or wise enough to make the most of what each mutually thought a bad bargain, it may be supposed their lives did not glide away like that of ParnelFs hermit, in one clear unruffled stream, but rather resembled the course of their own mountain torrents, which chafe, foam, murmur, and take their own way. Time rolled on, but did nothing to smooth the asperities of Glenroy and his lady. Pride was the ruling passion of both ; and unhappily there was no mutual object on which they might concentrate this predominant principle. The Lady Elizabeth added no branches to the family-tree ; and thus the unjust and overweening partiality of each parent for their own separate offspring continued to grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength. Such was the state of the Chief's family when he received a visit from his brother-in-law. Sir Angus Malcolm, with his only son, a spoiled handsome boy about the same age as his cousin Norman. Sir Angus was a widower, and had been recently appointed to a high command in India, whither he was to proceed when he should have found a situation for his son, suited to the anxieties of a fond parent. But that was a matter of difficulty, as indeed it must be to any one to part with his choicest treasure, and commit it to untried love and alien tenderness. Why did he leave it ? For wealth — that which tempts so many to " leave each thing beloved most dearly." Sir Angus had a fine estate, but it was loaded with debt. Time, self-denial, and management, might have retrieved it ; but to wait DESTINY. 1 1 on the one, and submit to the other, was not in the nature of an impetuous, open-hearted, open-handed Highlander ; and he preferred the easier task of retriev- ing his fortune by methods more congenial to him in a foreign land. His only care was to secure a safe and happy asylum for his child ; and as, besides being allied to Glenroy by marriage, he was also his nearest kins- man by blood, he flattered himself the Chief would take charge of his son, and educate him with his own. His only doubt was with regard to Lady Elizabeth, of whom he had not heard the most favourable reports ; but he was a sanguine, good-natured, undiscerning man, and his little misgivings were quickly dispelled by the affectionate and gracious reception he met with. Glen- roy was more than hospitably kind ; and his lady, won by the admiration expressed for her darling, and the beautiful presents bestowed upon her, acted a most amiable and delightful part. Glenroy at once antici- pated the subject uppermost in the breast of the parent, by inviting him to leave his boy with him during his absence ; and in a few minutes all was settled, to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. Lady Elizabeth was flattered by seeing that it was to her the father looked for care and protection to his son ; and her vanity was gratified at becoming the patroness of the young heir to an ancient title and noble fortune. But, above all, her favour was secured by the predilection evinced by the young Reginald towards Florinda. Upon being asked by his father which of his two cousins he would choose for his wife, he declared in- stantly in favour of Florinda, as being by far the prettiest ; he then followed up the avowal of his ad- miration with an offer to marry her, which was no less promptly agreed to on the lady's part, especially when she heard of the gold, and diamonds, and pearls, that were awaiting her. 12 DESTINY. The little Florinda was indeed an uncommonly pretty child, with a skin of dazzling whiteness, a profusion of golden ringlets, large blue eyes, a sylph-like figure, and an air of distinction, which, although not always the accompaniment of high birth, is rarely to be seen except among the true patrician orders. She was also of a gay sportive disposition, and winning manners : thus her natural endowments and early acquirements rendered her a perfect epitome of feminine grace and beauty. Edith, on the contrary, possessed no uncommon attrac- tions for the superficial observer. Her features were soft and delicate, her countenance mild and thoughtful, and her manners more gi ave than is usual at her age ; for no fond mother's heart had ever pillowed her infant head, no tender mother's hand had wiped away her childish tears, and even a father's arms were seldom open to her, for Norman's place was there. Dis- regarded or checked in the natural expression of her feelings, she gradually learnt to repress them within her own breast ; and while, to careless observers, the feel- ings themselves seemed wanting, the roots had only struck the deeper into the heart, while the shoots were thus carelessly trodden down. Edith was too much accustomed to see Florinda preferred to her, to feel any of the envy and heart- burnings of an oiFended rival, but meekly yielded up the prize. Lady Elizabeth was silly enough to feel gratified at this childish fancy, and continued so kind and caress- ing to her little son-in-law (as she styled him) during the week his father remained, that he departed with a mind relieved from all doubts and fears as to the situation in which he had left his son and heir. DESTINY. 13 Chapter iij. Alas ! and is domestic strife, That sorest ill of human life, A plague so little to be fear'd, As to be wantonly incurr'd, To gratify a fretful passion, On every trivial provocation ? Cow PER. FOR a little time all went on smoothly in the youth- ful circle of Glenroy ; but, unhappily, incon- stancy is known in childhood as well as in manhood, and Reginald began to discover that even the beautiful Florinda had her faults. She was very greedy, and was too much petted, and wanted every thing her own way : and as he had been accustomed to be no less despotic, many a childish squabble ensued. At length, not having the fear of damages for breach of promise of marriage before his eyes, he in a transport of indignation one day declared that he had quite changed his mind ; that she was not to be called his wife any more, for that he was going to take Edith ; she was much better tempered, would part with any of her playthings to him, and never cried when she was contradicted ; and, at any rate, brown hair and pale cheeks were much prettier than yellow hair and pink ones ; in short, " for any other reason why,'* his affections were transferred. Lady Elizabeth was weak enough to resent this affront, and to enter into all the childish feuds that followed, aggravated as they often were by nursery maids, to whom a spoiled unruly boy is always a subject of torment, and, of course, of blame. The consequence was, her fondness for Reginald, which had always been of a very precarious nature, now turned into downright aversion ; while he, unused to control at home, and encouraged by Glenroy in all 1 4 DESTINY. his freaks, set her authority completely at defiance. Even Benbowie, his tobacco, his snore, his shoes, and his waistcoats, almost all ceased to be objects of animosity, compared with this new annoyance. At length matters came to a climax, and threatened to add one more to the many proofs that great events do often spring from trivial causes. One day, when the two boys and Edith were engaged in some play, in which Florinda was deemed incompetent to join, to get rid of her importunities Reginald lent her his watch, the parting gift of his father ; receiving many assurances in return that she would take the greatest care of it. These promises, however, were soon forgotten ; the watch was opened, examined, wound up, and broken. Summary revenge is always the first impulse of the childish heart ; and Reginald, in his rage, shook Florinda with all his might, slapped her on the cheek, and even left the print of his nails on her arm. Her shrieks soon brought Lady Elizabeth to the spot, when she found her darling almost convulsed with terror and indignation at this rude assault. The extreme fairness and delicacy of her skin rendered the slightest touch at all times per- ceptible, and on the present occasion showed the offence in glowing colours, and told a tale of outrage that raised all the mother in Lady Elizabeth's breast. In vain did Norman and Edith attempt to palliate the offence by detailing the provocation, and declaring that Reginald had not meant to hurt her. They were sure he had only just given her a slap for breaking his watch. Lady Elizabeth would listen to nothing but the sobs and exclamations of her darling ; till at length she worked herself up to assert, and of course to believe, that her child had been seriously hurt, and would have been killed, had not she come to her rescue ; the whole was wound up with the soothing assurance to her angel, DESTINY. 15 that the savage should be sent from the house that very day. " But this house is not yours," retorted Reginald with equal warmth ; " it is my uncle's house, and I am to stay here till my papa comes home, and then I shall make him send that wicked monkey to prison for breaking my watch. The little wretch ! I hate and despise her for telling lies : — yes, you shall go to prison, and be fed on bread and water, you little lying yellow- haired wasp ! " And he shook his hand at her with renewed vehemence. " This is past all endurance," cried Lady Elizabeth, with violence ; " begone, all of you ! " And in the recklessness of her anger she pushed Edith, who had been upon her knees caressing and soothing Florinda as she lay in her mamma's lap. Edith fell, and struck her temple against the corner of the chair, but she uttered no cry. " There ! " cried Reginald, as he flew to help her up ; " see what you have done to Edith, and how good she is ! But Betty M'lvor says you are very bad to Edith, and don't love her, because she is not your child ; but / love her, and she is to be my wife, and she shall be all covered with gold and diamonds that my papa is to bring me. Yes, that you shall, Edith ! But she shall have nothing but dirty old rags to wear, and good enough too ; for Betty M'fvor says her skin is just like cream cheese, and her hair like a lint tap." A fresh burst of screams and tears from the fair Florinda made Lady Elizabeth hastily withdraw with her from the scene of action. In the tumult of ex- asperated and exaggerated feeling, she hastened to Glenroy ; and, denouncing Reginald as the destroyer of her child, demanded that both he and Betty M'lvor should be sent from the house. A scornful and 1 6 DESTINY. peremptory negative was of course returned. The lady persisted, as she commonly did : and rising in her passion at the contemptuous indifference her com- plaints met with, she at last declared her determination of leaving the house, and taking her child along with her, unless her demand was complied with. This threat being treated with anger and derision, led to a scene of altercation and mutual recrimination. When people are ready primed for quarrelling, a very little matter will serve the purpose, just as a single spark applied to a train of gunpowder will do the business of an earthquake. So it was with Glenroy and his lady. It had been touch-and-go with them for many a day ; and now, from less to more, from bad to worse, it ended in a threatened separation. The lady declared she nvould go, and the Chief would not ask her to stay. Glenroy would have been the last man to have turned his wife and her cliild from his house, however obnoxious they might have been, and he felt rather annoyed at the thoughts of such a thing being said ; but he was too proud to betray his feelings, or to make any concession : he merely contented himself with re- marking to Benbowie, that if her ladyship chose to go, she might go ; she was welcome to go or stay for him. " Very right, Glenroy ; on my conscience, that's very right," responded Benbowie : " but if she goes, I wish you may not have to aliment her." The acrimonious feelings of the parents could not fail to keep alive the resentment of the children. A spirit of absolute hatred towards each other seemed to burn in the young hearts of Reginald and Florinda ; and they never met without mutual provocation being given and taken in full measure. In vain the gentle Edith strove to reconcile them ; no sooner was an old offence patched up, than a new one broke out : and the only thing they both agreed in was in liking her. DESTINY. 17 It was at this crisis that an afflicting dispensation in the Waldegrave family accelerated the separation between the Chief and his lady. At the time of their marriage, Lord Waldegrave had two sons, then in the prime of life ; but nearly about the time that the eldest was killed by a fall from his horse, the youngest died of the yellow fever in the West Indies. Thus the young Florinda became at once presumptive heir to her grand- father, who, broken-hearted and paralytic, was not likely to stand long in the way of the succession ; and as the title and estates descended in the female line, she might now be considered as future baroness of Wal- degrave. With such prospects before her. Lady Elizabeth felt as if there were degradation in her remaining longer under the roof of a coarse-mannered, over-bearing Highlander ; and she therefore signified her intention of immediately removing her daughter to England, in order to be near her aged grandfather. She yielded so far, indeed, as to say, that, provided Glenroy would send the boys to school, and engage to spend eight or nine months of the year in or near London, she would have no objections to pass the other three or four in the Highlands. But an indignant refusal being returned, arrangements were immediately made for a final separation. The approaching departure of the mother and daughter caused universal satisfaction throughout the house, which had long been divided into two parties, as fierce as the Montagues and Capulets. Glenroy's adherents did not of course like his lady, and his servants had long looked with fiery indignation on the importance attached to Miss Waldegrave, and the airs of superiority assumed by that young lady's suite ; while the governesses and ladies' maids hailed with transport their emancipation from a long dull winter at Glenroy, as the contrasted gaieties of London rose to their minds' eye. Glenroy's own sensations were of a I. E 1 8 DESTINY. mixed nature : he felt that his lady's absence would be an inexpressible relief; but there was something of wounded pride which alloyed the pleasure of the parting. Edith shed many tears at the thoughts of losing Florinda, to whom she was really attached, for her warm and affectionate heart was ready to love every thing that did not repel her by harshness or indifference ; and Florinda loved Edith as much as a spoiled child can ever love any thing beyond self. " Do not cry, Edith,'' said the little future baroness, with a patronising air ; " for when I have a house of my own in London, 1 shall make a point of having you to stay with me ; indeed I shall ; but I will not invite you, nor jyow," to the boys. "If you did, we should not go," retorted Reginald ; " we are too glad to get rid of ugly lint-tops, to follow them to dirty, smoky London." " How happy I am to leave this ugly dull place," exclaimed the indignant Florinda ; " and Jenkins says, it is quite inconceivable how we have been able to exist here so long : only, dear Edith, I am very sorry to leave you ; but I hope I shall never see Glenroy Castle again ! " " And we hope we shall never see you here again," retorted Reginald, as Florinda skipped past him to the carriage, from which, with an air of insolent triumph, she smiled and waived her little white hands. Edith was the only one of the family who grieved at the separation which had taken place. Her warm, tender heart had fondly attached itself to Florinda ; and her only consolation at parting had been Florinda's promise of writing her a letter whenever she got to London. Poor Edith had watched from day to day for this letter — h^r Jirst letter ; and all may remember the anticipations of their first letter — anticipations fully realised by the actual receipt of it. What a new world DESTINY. 19 broke upon us with the breaking of the first seal ! What glorious visions unfolded themselves as we for the first time unfolded a letter to ourselves, containing perhaps some few words of full text ! Who ever received a first letter that did not spell and con it fifty- times over — who did not lay it under their pillow at night, and fall asleep, longing for morning that was to give the treasure again to their eyes ? But these were joys only pictured to Edith's imagination, as, each day, she rose in fresh hopes that that was the day her letter would arrive. Thus, " dupe of to-morrow," days passed away, till at length poor Edith's expectations died the natural death of " hope deferred." Cbaptet i^* Le bon esprit vaut beaucoup mieux que le bel esprit. Montesquieu. THE lady's departure was the signal for a gather- ing of the clan, who, as upon all occasions cither of condolence or congratulation, failed not to rally round their Chief In full force. Even Ben- bowie, although in general obtuse as a hedgehog, seemed to feel this as an epoch to be commemorated ; and he therefore ordered a new waistcoat ten times more hideous than any of its predecessors. His characteristics also began to expand more freely, and as if they owned some genial influence. He slept more, and snored louder than ever ; he inhaled his soup with an inspiration that might have sucked in a fleet ; his wig grew more small and wiry ; and when his feet were not creaking up and down the room, they were to be found reposing on the bars of his neighbour's chair. Halcyon days ensued ; Glenroy was himself again ; and a never- 20 DESTINY. ending, still-beginning course of revelry was kept up, till the castle more resembled a petty court than a private dwelling. A tutor had been provided for the boys by Sir Angus, before leaving Britain, and to his care they had been committed. He was an Englishman, a first-rate scholar, a man of elegant, refined manner, fond of study, yet skilled in lighter accomplishments, somewhat epicu- rean in his taste and habits, and altogether such a one as was calculated to form the perfect gentleman, and nothing more. At first Glenroy grumbled a good deal to Benbowie, at what he called the insufferable airs of the fine English dominie ; but as they did not interfere much with his own ways, he was too indolent to resent them, and at last he became gradually accustomed to bear with Mr Ellis as the most consummate puppy he had ever known. A governess was talked of for Edith ; but that was such a secondary consideration, that Glenroy could not be troubled to make any exertion to procure one. So, in the meantime, she received lessons from Mr Ellis, in the solid branches of education, along with the boys ; while the more feminine accomplishments were supposed to be communicated through the medium of a sort of half-and-half gentlewoman, the widow of one of Glen- roy's factors, and herself the fag-end of his clan, being a cousin not many degrees removed from the Chief himself. Mrs Macauley was now an elderly woman in years, but in nothing else. She was plain, but pleasing in her looks : she had a little thick active figure ; a broad, clear, brown face ; and two of the happiest, merriest, little black eyes that ever lighted up a head. She had an agreeable voice ; but her accent and pro- nunciation were provincial, and some of her phrases were altogether peculiar to herself, which rather gave a zest to her conversation. DESTINY. 2 1 But Mrs Macauley's great charms with old and young, were her unconquerable good-humour, and her unceasing good spirits. She was one of those happily- constituted beings, who look as if they could " extract sunbeams from cucumbers," and who seem to have been born sans nerves, sans spleen, sans bile, sans every thing of an irritable or acrimonious nature. But with all these wants, there was no want of a heart — a good, stout, sound, warm heart — which would cheerfully have given itself and its last drop for the honour and glory of the race of Glenroy. She had also just as much religion as an irreligious man could tolerate ; for her religion was a compound of the simplest articles of belief, and certain superstitious notions of second sight, visions, dreams, and so forth, which sometimes afforded amuse- ment, or at any rate, always served for ridicule. As for her accomplishments, they were many and various ; and being mostly self-acquired, they possessed a sort of originality, which, in some degree, compensated for other deficiencies. She was a perfect adept in the now much-despised art of needle-work ; and besides the more vulgar arts of hemming, running, stitching, splaying, basting, &c., she had a hand for "Tent-work, rais'd-work, laid-work, frost-work, net-work. Most curious pearls, and rare Italian cut-work, Fine fern-stitch, finny-stitch, new-stitch, and chain-stitch, Brave bred-stitch, fisher-stitch, Irish-stitch, and queen- stitch, The Spanish-stitch, rosemary-stitch, herring-bone and maw stitch : The smarting whip-stitch, back-stitch, and cross-stitch.* All these are good, and these we must allow. For these are every where in practice now." Not satisfied with these her supreme excellences, Mrs Macauley also aspired to the knowledge of music and * '• The Needle." 22 DESTINY. painting. She had a good ear, a tolerable voice, and a great collection of old Scottish songs, which she sung to herself in very blitheness of heart. Her performances in drawing were no less limited ; as all the efforts of her genius had been concentrated in one single view of Glenroy Castle, which, after much toil and trouble, she had accomplished to her own satis- faction, and to which she had faithfully adhered for upwards of forty years. From this parent view had descended an innumerable progeny of various shapes and sizes, but not of aspect ; as all, to a leaf, were impressed with the self-same features. These mounted in the several forms of letter-cases, pocket-books, watch- papers, &c., were most liberally dispensed by her to the friends of the family, including every one who had ever set foot in the castle. In short, she was the very antipodes of the M'Larty, or " canna-be-fashed " school ; for nothing was a " fash " to the ever active, busy Mrs Macauley. She was one " who never felt a stupor — knew a pause,'* and yet, strange to say, her activity never incommoded or annoyed any one. Mrs Macauley's vanity was so inoffensive, and she contributed so largely to the amusement of every one, that her company was in great request, and by none more than by the Chief himself. In proof of this, besides many other acts of liberality towards her, he had not only fitted up for her a cottage in the vicinity of the castle, but had likewise assigned her an apartment there ; from which, however, in Lady Elizabeth's time, she had been wholly banished, but in which she was now become a fixture. This chamber was the favour- ite rendezvous of the children, who delighted in beating upon her old spinnet, and in being allowed to daub paper, dirty their fingers, and look at cloth-dogs, calico- peacocks, tinsel-grottos, filigree figures, birds made ot real dyed feathers, and all the rest of Mrs Macauley's DESTINY. 23 monstrosities ; while she, her good-humoured face beaming with pleasure, was no less happy in the belief that she was rendering the most essential benefit to her benefactor, in thus imparting her accomplishments to his children. Glenroy, to be sure, scouted the idea of her teaching them any thing but her own brogue, and took great delight in ridicuHng her accomplishments even to her- self; but then, as he said to Benbowie, Mary Macauley, although a great idiot, was a kind-hearted, well-mean- ing body, and was fond and careful of the children ; and if they learned little good from her, they would learn as little evil, for she was a simple, honest creature as ever breathed : to which the usual affirmative, or rather ro^firmative, was returned. " That's very true, Glenroy ; on my conscience there's a great deal of good sense in that. Molly Macauley is a very decent girl, and costs nothing." Such was the preceptress of the Chief's daughter, and in the genial warmth of her social love and sym- pathy, Edith's young heart expanded as a flower to the sun. It is a trite remark, that the most important part of our education is given by ourselves. If Edith was not so regularly and well-instructed as she might have been, she escaped the still more dangerous error of having her mind overworked and overloaded with premature know- ledge : and how many a mind has been worked, perhaps, to the weakening of those very powers which it was the aim of the teacher to strengthen and expand ! In the moral, as in the physical constitution. Nature is the best guide ; and Nature spoke wisely even by the lips of Mrs Macauley, when she said, " Childer will be chil- der, let us do as we will ; we cannot put grey heads upon green shoulders ! " 24 DESTINY. I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrines and whose life, Coincident, exhibit hicid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause. To such I render more than mere respect, ******* But rare at home, and never with his books, a stranger to the poor. And well prepar'd by ignorance and sloth To make God's work a sinecure ; a slave To his own pleasures and his patron's pride, From such apostles, oh ! preserve the church ! COWPER. SCARCELY had Glenroy begun to enjoy his emancipation from one species of domestic tyranny, when he found himself groaning under another of a very different description — that of the minister of the parish ; and if the Chief and his lady could have agreed even in their antipathies, Mr M*Dow might have had the merit of reconciling them. But Glenroy had not even the luxury of openly complain- ing of this torment ; for, like his former one, it was one of his own providing, placed there not merely with his consent, but by his own free will. Mr M'Dow was the man of his own chocie ; the chosen of many can- didates. The church having become vacant by the death of the former minister, much canvassing and com- petition had of course ensued ; and at least twenty "licensed graduates" had presented themselves, each with testimonials and credentials enough to have en- titled them to a bishopric. But of the two whose recommendations carried most weight, the one was the present pastor, the Rev- erend Duncan M'Dow, and the other was of the evan- gelical side ; a party whom Glenroy, although profess- DESTINY. 25 ing Christianity, held in the utmost abhorrence. Not that he knew very well what it was they did profess ; he only guessed it was something he did not practise. He had a vague, confused apprehension, that an evan- gehcal pastor was a sort of compound of a tyrannical Popish priest, a stiff-necked Presbyterian, a sour-faced Covenanter, a lank-haired Seceder, a meddling Jesuit, a foul-tongued John Knox, a what not, that had evil in its composition. No reasonable person surely can doubt that there have been, and still are, many bright ornaments of the church, amongst both parties of Christians ; and it is much to be lamented, when prejudice runs high on either side, and a man is applauded or defamed, not according to his practice, but his profession. Meek spirits and lowly hearts may doubtless be found amongst those named "Moderates" in the church — while coarse minds, rude manners, and unholy tempers are sometimes exhibited even by those who presume to rank themselves with the evangelical — and vice versa. So easy is it to be a churchman, so difficult to be a Christian ! As little may it be questioned, that in their respective congregations the wheat and the tares grow promiscuously to this day, as they will even to the last. But this was not the view Glenroy took of the subject ; and he was loud against all high-flyers, new- lights, gospellers, bigots, zealots, enthusiasts, saints, and so forth. Being a moderate man, he, like all moderate people, was most violently opposed to the admission of any person of that description within the precincts of the parish. As the other heritors were few in number, the patronage in this instance was conceded to him ; and his choice fell upon the present minister, who had been twenty years tutor in the family of the Laird of Kindullie, and who never had been branded with any of these appellations. 2 6 DESTINY. but bore the character of being an easy, good-humoured, sensible, moderate man, who troubled nobody, but minded his own affairs. This last qualification he cer- tainly possessed, as Glenroy soon found to his cost. The Reverend Duncan M'Dow was a large, loud- spoken, splay-footed man, whose chief characteristics were his bad preaching, his love of eating, his rapacity for augmentations, (or, as he termed it, ow^mentations,) and a want of tact in all the h'lenseances of life, which would have driven Lord Chesterfield frantic. His hands and feet were in everybody's way : the former, indeed, like huge grappling irons, seized upon every thing they could possibly lay hold of ; while the latter were commonly to be seen sprawling at an immeasurable distance from his body, and projecting into the very middle of the room, like two prodigious moles, or bastions. He dealt much in stale jokes and bad puns ; he had an immense horse-laugh, which nothing ever restrained, and an enormous appetite, which nothing seemed to damp, and which he took care always to supply with the best things at table. He used a great quantity of snuff, and was for ever handing about his mull, an ugly cow's horn, with a foul dingy cairngorm set in silver on the top. To sum up his personal enor- mities, when he spoke he had a practice of always advancing his face as close as possible to the person he was addressing. Although a strong-bodied, sturdy man, he was extremely careful of his health ; and even on a fine summer's day was to be seen in a huge woolly great-coat that reached to his heels, trotting along on a stout dun pony, just high enough to keep its master's feet off the ground. Such were the outward man and beast : the inward man was very much of the same stamp. Mr M*Dow's principal object in this world was self, and his constant and habitual thoughts had naturally operated on his out- DESTINY. 27 ward manners to such a degree as to blunt all the nicer perceptions of human nature, and render him, in veiy truth, his own microcosm. He was no dissembler ; for a selfish dissembler is aware, that, in order to please, one must appear to think of others, and forget self. This fictitious politeness he had neither the tact to acquire, nor the cunning to feign ; consequently he was devoid of all the means of pleasing. Not that we mean to recommend dissimulation, or to insinuate that Mr M'Dow would, in reality, have been a better man had he been able and willing to form himself on the model of the Chesterfield school. He would merely have been less offensive in the ordinary intercourse of life, and would have sinned less against the common obser- vances of society. But had he been earnest in his calling, had he sought to have his mind enlightened by the knowledge of those divine truths which he professed to teach, their unction would have softened and refined even the ruggedness of his nature, and have rendered him an object of respect, instead of a subject of ridicule. From the moment he was "ordained" minister of the gospel, Mr M'Dow had done nothing but make demands for augmentation of stipend, enlargement of glebe, additions to the manse, new offices, and so on. Now, there was no way in which his money could go that was so unsatisfactory to Glenroy, as when it was claimed as a matter of right, more especially by the clergy, whom he looked upon as the worst species of land-tax. Besides, like all idle, indolent people, he had an utter abhorrence of everything that occasioned trouble, or was a hore, and Mr Duncan M'Dow was a bore that beset him on all sides. He was a stumbling- block in his path, a thorn in his side, a weed that had taken root in the very heart of his estate, and which it was impossible for him to extirpate. True, he was not molested with spiritual admonitions, plans for building 28 DESTINY. churches, subscriptions for establishing schools, or schemes for employing the industrious, or relieving the indigent, or reclaiming the wicked : but then he was haunted with estimates for enlarging the manse, and repairing the barn, or hints for rebuilding both house and offices ; or he was beset with a copy of the new locality, or an extract of the last decreet, or a notice of a second summons for augmentation, or an interlocutor of the Teind Court, in favour of some other minister ; one or other, if not all of which missiles, Mr M'Dow bore as constantly about his person as a highwayman does his pistols. But what provoked Glenroy even more than all this, was the utter impossibility of over- awing the minister or keeping him at a proper distance ; for Mr M'Dow possessed that sort of callous good nature, which rendered him quite invulnerable to all rebuffs. As well might a needle have been applied to the skin of a rhinoceros, as a gibe or a taunt to the feelings of the minister ; they were all received as good jokes, which only called forth roars of laughter in return. Besides, the impression was so completely implanted on his brain, of Glenroy's extreme predilection for him, from having appointed him his pastor in spite of all opposition, that any thing he now said or did could not possibly remove it. In a word, Henry the Second and Thomas a Becket were a joke to Glenroy and Mr Duncan M'Dow. DESTINY. 29 Cljaptcr bj, I have not bin to their condition borne, Who are enclyned to respect and scorne, As men in their estates doe rise and fall ; Or rich or poore I vertue love in all. George Withers. GLENROY'S property was too princely in extent to admit of any very near neighbours who could vie with him in state and consequence. Yet two of his nearest kinsmen had dwellings within a short distance of him ; or rather the distance was reckoned short in a country where stormy friths and pathless mountains oppose no such obstacles to social inter- course as are enjoined by the flimsy forms of fashion and etiquette. All that Glenroy's eye looked upon of hill and glen, lake and forest, were his own ; with the exception ot one single feature in the landscape, and that the fairest in all the goodly scene. This was a beautiful richly- wooded promontory, which stretched far into the bosom of the estuary that almost surrounded it, and gave it the appearance of a sylvan isle. It had once formed part of the Glenroy estate, and had even been the original seat of the family, as was indicated by some grey, ivy- grown walls which crowned the summit of one of its green knolls. But by one of the many mutations land is subject to, it had been severed from the gieater part of the property, and had passed to a younger branch of the family, by whom it had for generations been pos- sessed. This younger branch had now dwindled away to one " sear and yellow leaf," a rich and childless old man, who had lately succeeded by the death of a nephew, whose first act, upon coming of age, had been to repair and furnish such part of the old castle as could be 30 DESTINY. rendered habitable for the shooting-season. His suc- cessor was not personally known in the country, as he had left it at an early age to push his fortune in a remote provincial town in England, and had only visited it once since. Glenroy had long looked with a wistful eye to- wards this property, which, indeed, was the very crown jewel of the family, and for which he would gladly have exchanged many thousand acres of muir and mountain : but hitherto he had coveted in vain. All his overtures had been rejected : for, to tell the truth, Glenroy had every thing but money to offer for it ; and money, un- fortunately, is the only thing that ever induces people to part with their lands. But now he seemed in a fair way to gain possession of it, not by conquest (as the law terms purchase), but by gift, or inheritance, as he said he was the nearest heir to the childless old man who was now the proprietor. Even if it had been otherwise, it was of little consequence, as the property was not en- tailed, and it was but natural to suppose he would leave it to him as the rightful owner and the head of the family ; especially as he could have nobody else to leave it to, having quarrelled with all of the clan with whom he had ever come into contact. At a more respectful distance from the proud turrets of Glenroy stood the humble dwelling of his cousin, Captain Malcolm, a half-pay officer in delicate health, the possessor of a paternal farm, and the father of eight children. In early life he had made a love marriage with a lady of good family and great beauty, but no fortune. This step had of course displeased the friends (so called) on both sides, and the young pair had been left to struggle through life as they best could — and a hard struggle it had been. But, as has been truly said, " unfitness of minds, more than of circumstances, is what in general mars the marriage union ; where these are suited, means of contentment and happiness are within DESTINY. 31 reach." And, in this instance, so it had proved. Mrs Malcolm, though highly born and delicately bred, had followed her husband through all the changes of a soldier's life, had shared his hardships and privations with cheerfulness, and had now retired with him to a bleak Highland farm, with that contentment which was ready to find good in every thing. If their claims had been strictly investigated, it would probably have been found that Captain Malcolm was still more nearly re- lated to the Inch Orran branch of the family than the Chief himself; but his chance of the succession was such a hopeless one, that he never had allowed himself to indulge the slightest expectation. In his first outset in life, he had disobhged Mungo Malcolm, the present proprietor, by refusing to be received into his office, and bred to his profession — that of a scrivener. One offence was quite sufficient to make an enemy for life of Mungo Malcolm ; but when this act of disobedience was fol- lowed up by a rash and imprudent marriage, assur- ance was made doubly sure : the door was com- pletely closed and barred against him, and it seemed as if Httle less than a miracle could ever open it again. When this family first came to the neighbourhood, Glenroy had shown them considerable kindness and attention, in an ostentatious patronising way ; and they had received his favours as people willing to be obliged, because they felt that in similar circumstances they would have been happy in obliging others. But at the same time, the Chief's pompous civilities were met with a simple courtesy, which, while it showed they were not insensible to them, yet denoted minds of too elevated a cast to be overwhelmed by condescension, or oppressed by trivial favours. This, however, was what Glenroy could not understand, and did not like. He was more lavish than generous ; he gave freely, but he loved to 32 DESTINY. brandish his favours, and always looked for an immediate return in gratitude or adulation. The calm manner and moderate expressions of Cap- tain Malcolm were therefore ill calculated to feed the cravings of his vanity. Boast as he might, his boasting never called forth any bursts of admiration or applause from his poor kinsman ; nor did all the display of his wealth and state appear to excite the slightest envy, or even astonishment, in his breast. Yet there was nothing sour or cynical in this plainness ; nothing that betrayed a contempt for what he could not attain. On the con- trary, his manners were mild and pleasing to all who could value simplicity and sincerity ; and he was ever ready to commend and admire when he could do so consistently with truth. There is, perhaps, nothing more baffling to pride, than when it meets with contentment in a humble sta- tion ; it is then like the wind wasting its strength where there is nothing to oppose it, or the waves spending their foam upon the smooth printless sand. In like manner, the lofty bearing and arrogant pretensions of the Chieftain met neither with encouragement nor op- position in the quiet but independent satisfaction of his poor cousins. Pride is easily instilled even into generous natures ; and the Glenroy children were not slow in learning how greatly they were thought superior to the young Donald Begs, as the Chief contemptuously nicknamed his kins- man's family. This knowledge, however, availed them little in practice ; for the young Malcolms, though gay, good-humoured, and obliging, were free from that ser- vile spirit which denotes the mercenary dependent, and in their childish intercourse preserved an ease and equality as remote from false shame as from vulgar forwardness. Educated by pious and enlightened parents, their young minds were imbued with that most elevating of all prin- DESTINY. 33 ciples, the genuine spirit of Christianity ; and by'it they were early taught to distinguish between those things which the world despises, and those things which are in themselves despicable. Though poor, they therefore attached no degrading ideas to poverty, nor affixed undue importance to wealth. Their minds were kept free from sordid passions and vulgar prejudices, while all the nobler qualities of their nature were strengthened and improved l^y the constant exercise of the mind's best attributes. Love, charity, contentment, fortitude, temperance, and self-denial — these were the treasures the parents sought to lay up in the hearts of their chil- dren ; and if they did not always succeed in raising these plants of heavenly growth in that strange and way- ward soil^ the human heart, the very attempt produced a wholesome influence in displacing pride, prejudice, and selfishness, those bitter roots of envy, hatred, and malice. There was something so sweet and attractive in Mrs Malcolm, and so pleasing in the whole family, that Edith was never so happy as when allowed to spend some days at Lochdhu ; but she would have been ashamed to acknowledge how much she loved them all, for she was accustomed to hear them spoken of in a slighting and somewhat contemptuous manner. Thus is many a pure and generous feeling stifled in the young heart by the withering breath of ridicule. 34 DESTINY. C^afiter f)tj. Yet by some object every brain is stirr'd, The dull may open to a humming-bird ; The most recluse, discreetly open'd, find Congenial matter in the cockle kind. Pope. IT was at this time that the new Laird of Inch Orran was expected to take possession of his inheritance, and nothing else was talked of throughout the dis- trict, while many and various were the rumours afloat concerning him. The only point they all agreed in was, that he was a very particular man — which is the next thing to being called a hydra. But particular men, and particular women, too, well deserve a chapter to them- selves, which they shall perhaps have at another time ; but this one must be devoted to the particularities of Inch Orran. Of that " particular man," then, it was generally reported, that he was of a very capricious bad temper ; or, according to the nursery phrase, that he was very apt to have the black dog on his back. When that happened, it was said he was in the practice of sit- ting in profound silence all the time the fit lasted, with a red night-cap on his head ; which red night-cap he would not have lifted for the king himself, till the black dog had taken his departure, and then it was hung up on its own particular peg, till the return of the said black dog. Another edition was, that he always allowed his beard to grow with the growth, and strengthen with the strength of the fit; till at length, in a melting mood, he had again recourse to the razor, and came forth with a new-mown chin ready to salute all the world. Others said that Inch Orran hung out no dead-lights on the approach of a storm, nor hoisted any signals by which the enemy could be warned of their danger. His black dog, it was said, was seldom off his back, and went and DESTINY. 35 came just as it happened, without saying, by your leave. That he had a black dog, nobody doubted ; and that he was most thoroughly disagreeable, was never disputed. Whether he had a wife, was not so certain : some said they had seen her; others had never even heard of her; a third reported her dead; and a fourth, in confinement. There was also much speculation as to how he would come, when he would arrive, where he would reside, whether he would entertain the county, &c. ? Glenroy had written a pressing invitation to his kinsman to take up his abode for the present with him ; but a very brief dry refusal had been returned, which had fired the Chieftain's blood, till he recollected that he was a par- ticular man : and even a great man must give way to a particular man, inasmuch as the one is sometimes a poor man, and the other is always a rich man. Glenroy's next step was to have scouts stationed to give him the very earliest intelligence of Inch Orran's arrival ; and no sooner was that announced, than he ordered his barge to be manned, and, accompanied by Benbowie, he em- barked on the smooth surface of a summer's sea to welcome the old Laird to the seat of his forefathers. It is sometimes difficult to believe that all things are in their right places in this round world. Certainly Glenroy and Benbowie did not seem in character with the scenery, as they were borne along on the bosom of the blue waters, which reflected, as in a mirror, the varied beauties that skirted their shores ; the grey rocks, the graceful pendant birch, the grassy knolls, the gushing streamlet, the fern-clad glens, the lofty mountains glowing with heather, save here and there where patches of tender green relieved the rich monotony of colour ; while, above all, " the gorgeous sphere Lit up the vales, flowers, mountains, leaves, and streams, With a diviner day — the spirit of bright beams." 36 DESTINY. To the eye of taste and the feeling heart, there would have been rapture in every beam of light and breath of heaven, on such a day and amid such scenes. But Glenroy and Benbowie cared for none of these things ; though the woods and waters, hills and dales, suggested ideas to them, such as they were, as they sailed along, and they were pleased holding parley in their own way. And "as imagination bodies forth the form of things," so the two friends " turned them to shapes," and gave to " airy nothings a local habitation and a name." Glen- roy and Benbowie then, although they could not be said to find " sermons in stones, tongues in the trees, or books in the running brooks," yet found much profitable matter of discourse in the various objects of nature that pre- sented themselves. The crystal depths of the limpid waters over which the sun was shedding its noonday effulgence, suggested to their minds, images of herrings, fat, fresh, or salted, with their accompaniments of casks, nets, and busses ; the mountains in their stern glory, with their lights and shadows, and lonely recesses, to them showed forth heath-burning, sheep-walks, black- faced wedders, and wool. The copsewood, tender and harmonious in its colouring, free and graceful in its growth, was, in their language, " hags and stools " of price and promise ; and as they touched the shore of Inch Orran, they broke into no idle raptures about the water plants, the fern, the wild flowers, the tall foxglove, the grey rocks and bright mossy stones, half hid beneath the broad-leafed coltsfoot, that formed the rich and variegated foreground ; for they were casting searching looks for "black tang" and "yellow tang," and "bell wrack" and "jagged wrack," and such other ingre- dients as enter into the composition of that valuable commodity called kelp. Such were the speculations which came most home to the business and bosoms of the friends ; so grovelling and sordid are the results of human pride and selfishness. DESTINY. 37 Although the ruins of Inch Orran Castle had an im- posing effect when viewed from a distance, the respect they excited was considerably diminished on a nearer survey. They stood on the summit, and close to the edge of a romantic eminence, which rose abruptly from the water, and gave them an air of grandeur to which they could not have otherwise aspired. The building had been originally in the form of a square, with a court in the centre ; but two sides of it were now mere shape- less weather-stained masses of stone, which time was every day crumbling into more picturesque forms, and mantling with ivy and wall - flowers, thus " making beautiful what else were bleak and bare ; " while such parts of the building as had fallen down were over- grown with creeping plants and briars, that gave it an appearance of intricacy, and thus heightened the interest which the mouldering and dilapidated remains of a human dwelling never fail to excite. One side of the square, that next the water, had been repaired, and now formed the dwelling-house ; but it was so sombre, and so perfectly in harmony with the rest of the building, that it gave no offence, for it conveyed no impression of any modern usurper having invaded the precincts of the departed : it rather seemed as if some of its former in- mates still lingered there, amid the wreck of former ages. Glenroy knocked at the door ; but it was some time ere his summons was answered. At length a very corpulent, red-faced, sour-looking serving-man appeared, and, after a little seeming hesitation in his own mind, acknowledged that he believed his master was at home ; then with a slow, toddling, reluctant gait, he led the way to the apartment where sat the Lord of the Castle. 38 DESTINY. Cl)atJter biij. It is better for me to grieve thee, O stranger, or to be affronted by thee, than to be tormented by thy kindness the next day, and the morrow after. — Anon. IT was a spacious room, panelled with oak, and hand- somely furnished in the modern antique style. Three windows looked upon the loch, and one at the end of the apartment confronted an ivy-mantled tower, which admitted few of day's garish beams at any time, much less at present, when there stood stationed there the huge person of Mr Duncan M'Dow. On the entrance of the Chief, he instantly hastened towards him, with his grappling-irons extended ; and before Glenroy knew where he was, Benbowie and he were actually led forward in a triumphant manner, and presented by the minister to the master of the house. *' I am amazingly proud," said he, in his loudest and most emphatic manner, " that it has fallen to my lot to introduce my respected friend and pawtron, Glenroy, to you. Inch Orran, and likewise my very worthy friend, Benbowie : this is really a treat ! " Glenroy certainly had been struck dumb, else he never could have borne this in silence ; but he began to rally his forces, although he refrained from breaking out before his kinsman. He therefore merely bit his lip, and cast a look at Mr Duncan, which, if looks could have killed, would certainly have laid the pastor sense- less at his feet. He then turned to Inch Orran, who had risen to receive him from before a table, on which lay some law-books, ledgers, bundles of papers, and parchments. Inch Orran was a little meagre sickly-looking man, with a sharp, bitter face, a pair of fiery vindictive eyes, and a mouth all puckered up, as if to keep in the many DESTINY. 39 cutting things which otherwise would have got out. And, indeed, it must be owned that but few escaped in comparison of the multitude that lodged within ; for he was one of those gifted individuals, who have un grand talent pour le silence. Neither red cap nor black dog were visible ; but, on the contrary, the marks of the razor were still visible on his chin, and he welcomed his visitors with something that approached to bare civility. However, people may be thankful when they meet with even bare civility from a particular man, and Glenroy was not one to be daunted even by bare civility ; so he shook his kinsman heartily by the hand, and expressed his pleasure at seeing him, in a very cordial manner. " You are welcome to the Highlands, Inch Orran," said hf , warmly ; " and I hope you will like us well enough to remain amongst us." "Sir, I thank you," was the reply, with a full stop. " When did you arrive. Inch Orran ? " " On Tuesday evening, at a quarter past six, sir," in a loud, sharp, cracked voice. " I wish I could have prevailed upon you to take up your quarters at Glenroy," said the Chief. " I think I may venture to say, you would have found yourselt comfortable there." " There, sir, you must allow me to judge for myself," was the reply. Here Mr M'Dow thought was a fit opportunity for him to strike in. " I assure you. Inch Orran," said he, " however little Glenroy may think of this house in comparison of his own, yet I can only say, I would be very well pleased if 1 had a room half the size of this in the manse." "You are very moderate, sir," returned Inch Orran, 40 DESTINY. with a bitter sneer, which was quite thrown away upon Mr M*Dow, who went on, — " This house has been wonderfully well repaired and improved ; it's really a most commodious, comfortable dwelling, and most handsomely furnished : but in general it's my opinion a man should not think of adding to, or repairing an old house. A man will never make his plack a bawbee by repairing : for instance, there's the estimate of the addition and repairs for the manse and offices, that I was mentioning to you when my worthy and respected pawtrons came in. My house is really a poor affair ; my byre's in a most dreadful state, and my stable's not a great deal better ; — and by the by," as if recollecting himself, " I'm not sure, but I slipped the estimate into my pocket before I came away." Diving into an enormous pouch, like a sack, he drew forth a large bundle of papers, which he turned over, as if to ascertain their identity, although every letter was as familiar to him as his own fingers. " Ay, here it is — estimate of the necessary repairs for the manse, offices, &c. of Auchterbruckle. You can take a glance at it any time you are at leisure. Inch Orran ; " upon which he laid it on the table, and making another dive, fished up his snuff-mull, which, shaking and patting, he offered to Inch Orran, who, in the same dry, caustic manner, said — " Sir, snuffing is a practice which I despise and abominate." " Hoot, toot. Inch Orran, you must not say that," cried the undaunted Mr M'Dow, with a great roar of laughter ; " here's my excellent friend, Benbowie, has no objections to a snuff any more than myself." Here, Benbowie and he exchanged boxes. " And, by the by, that puts me in mind of a bong mote I read in the Edinburgh Caledonian Mercury of the 29th ultimo, that I was very much taken with : I thought it really DESTINY. 41 very good : I really had a good laugh at it — hach, hach, hach, ho. Two snuffers happened to meet one day at the Cross, I think it was — Says the one to the other, as they exchanged their mulls, just as we have been doing, — says the one to the other, — *' < A friend's a good thing at a pinch.' " ' Yes,' says the other, * but is it not still better for friends to be laying out their money, this way, at scent per scent ? ' " Here a tremendous volley of laughter broke forth, peal upon peal, roar upon roar, while he rubbed his hands, rocked upon his chair, and threw his body about in all directions, in perfect ecstacy. " Cent per cent, Benbowie, would soon build the manse and mend my byre ! " And this witticism was followed by another roar, in which no one joined except Benbowie, who did not know at any time what he laughed at. But Mr M'Dow and his mull were not done yet. " Though you are no snuffer. Inch Orran, you may perhaps admire the setting of my mull ; it's a topeuss on the top, a Highland cairngoreum, an uncommon large fine stone. It was given to me in a present by my excellent friend, Kindullie, on the occasion of my leaving his family. It was a very gratifying token of his regard for me, and of the manner in which he was satisfied I had per- formed my duty in educating of his seven sons. Our Highland mulls and cairngoreums are all the fashion now. Inch Orran." " I am no lapidary, sir," said Inch Orran, without deigning even to cast his eyes upon it. " That's just my own case. Inch Orran ! " quoth the undaunted minister. " I know very little about these things myself; I have always had other things to mind, and I have never given much attention to your fashionable gimcracks." " It's a pity, sir ! " said Inch Orran, in that signifi- 42 DESTINY. cant tone which would have conveyed the most cutting sarcasm to every ear but that of Duncan M'Dow. Glenroy all this time was fuming to himself at the laconic dryness of his host on the one hand, and the facetious familiarity of his minister on the other ; and indeed a more discordant party scarcely ever met to- gether in friendly semblance ; and it seemed in vain to expect any thing pleasant from such a compound. How- ever, Glenroy thought of the family seat, and the fifty thousand pounds, and he made another attempt to be agreeable. " You have been a great stranger in Scotland, Inch Orran ; it must be a long while since you have visited your own country ? " " Forty years, sir, and upwards." " Forty years ! That is a long time ; what wonder- ful changes you must see ! " " I do see a change, sir ; but that is not wonderful." " The impertinent old cur ! " thought Glenroy ; "what does he mean by snarling at my words?" And he sat in sullen silence, while the old man kept his scrutinising eyes fastened upon him with that terrific expression which eyes sometimes have, of being not only eyes, but ears. " Forty years is a long time," said Benbowie ; "on my conscience, it is a very long time." " If there were any ladies present, Benbowie, you and I, who are bachelors, would not be very keen, maybe, of kenning any thing about forty years," said Mr M*Dow, with a sly wink and a loud laugh. Then paused, in hopes of being rallied on the subject of his celibacy, but in vain ; so he went on — " Many's the gibe I get from my excellent friend Kindullie, about not having provided a dow for my nest yet — ho, hoch, ho ! — But I tell him I must first get my dookit before I think of providing a dow for it. Don't you think I'm DESTINY. 43 right there, Inch Orran ? " with a thundering peal of laughter. . "Sir!" " O, it's entirely a joke on both sides — you under- stand it, Glenroy ? I must get my addition, if not an entire new manse and offices, before I can ask a lady to come and preside there. I can give you no Mrs M'Dow till you give me my drawing-room and my byre, at all events. Don't you think that's but reasonable. Inch Orran ? " " Really, Mr M'Dow, this is not a time to introduce your private affairs," said the Chief, haughtily. " I beg your pardon, Glenroy ; but I really must differ from you there. Only consider, here's a meeting of my three principal heritors ! W ho knows when I may have such another opportunity, though, I am sure, I trust we may have many pleasant meetings for all that. But, however, since I have the pleasure of seeing my principal heritors convened, I think there can be no harm in just taking a slight glance at my Summons of Aug- mentation, which, with the interim locality, I happen to have by mere chance about me." And, plunging his arm into the other bottomless gulf of a pocket, out came a huge bunch of papers from which even Benbowie in- stinctively drew away his chair. " You see it is no great bulk ; you'll soon glance over it. There's first the Summons — that'^ it. No. i Summons, at the instance of the Rev. Duncan M*Dow, minister of Auchter- bruckle, for an augmentation of stipend, &c. Then there's the interlocutor of the Court, with the interim locality and decreet ; for you see, although my alloca- tion is upon the teinds of " " I hope you have brought Mrs Malcolm with you, Inch Orran ?" said Glenroy, making a desperate attempt to get the better of the teinds. " Certainly, sir," was the laconic reply. 44 DESTINY. " I trust I shall have the pleasure of paying my respects to her, then, if convenient ? " " Do you wish to see my wife, sir ? " demanded Inch Orran, in no very sweet accent. " If quite convenient and agreeable, I should be happy to welcome your lady to the Highlands." Inch Orran rung the bell, which was answered by the fat serving-man. " Be so good, Simon," said he, in a voice like a lamb, " as desire Mrs Malcolm to come here." " She is dressing, I believe," said Simon. " Send her here when she is ready, Simon." And Simon, with a bang of the door, withdrew. Cljapter iv^ The man ys blest, That lyves in rest, And so can keepe him stylle ; And he is " accurst," That was the first. That gave his wyffe her will. Anon. 1547. IN a few minutes the door opened, and the lady entered. She was arrayed in a bright amber silk gown, a full dress cap, decorated with scarlet ribands, and even more than the usual number of bows that tied nothing, and ends that evidently had no ends to answer, save that of swelling the milliner's bill. She had a mean, vacant countenance, and a pair of most un- handy looking hands crossed before her, clothed in bright purple gloves, with long empty finger-ends, dangling in all directions. All artists admit, that there is as much character displayed in hands as in heads, and Mrs Mal- colm's hands were perfectly characteristic ; they pro- DESTINY. 45 claimed at once that they could do nothing ; that they were utterly helpless, and morally, not physically, im- becile. Inch Orran seemed instinctively aware of her ap- proach, for without looking the way she was, he merely said, " Mrs Malcolm, gentlemen ; " and Mrs Malcolm advancing in an awkward, trailing manner, made sundry low curtseys to her guests, and extending her empty finger - ends (which were eagerly caught at by Mr M*Dow), she, in a peaking, monotonous voice, ex- pressed her pleasure at sight of them. Why Mr Malcolm had married Mrs Malcolm, was one of those mysteries which had baffled all conjecture, for she had neither beauty, money, connections, talents, accomplishments, nor common sense. Not that she was ugly, for she would have looked very well in a toy-shop window. She had pink cheeks, blue eyes, and a set of neat yellow curls ranged round her brow. She was much younger than her husband, and looked still more juvenile than she really was, for not all the contempt and obloquy that had been poured upon her for upwards of twenty years had ever made her change either countenance or colour ; in fact, she had neither passions, feehngs, nerves — scarcely sensations. She seemed pre- cisely one of those whom Nature had destined to " suckle fools and chronicle small beer ; '* but fate had denied her the fools, and Inch Orran had debarred her from all interference even with the small beer ; for such was his contempt for the sex in general, and for his own portion of it in particular, that he deemed a woman quite incompetent to regulate a household. His domestic concerns were therefore conducted ostensibly by him- self, but virtually by his fat serving-man, who was his foster-brother, and had been his factotum long before he married. Even his dress, to the most minute article, was all of Simon's providing. Simon alone knew to a 46 DESTINY. hair the cut and colour of his wig, the pattern of his pocket-handkerchiefs, the texture of his shirts and neck- cloths, the precise latitude and longitude of his flannel waistcoats, with various other particulars incident to a particular man. Now, the chief occupation of Mrs Malcolm's life was trailing from shop to shop, in search of any thing or nothing, and she would have liked to have the dressing of Mr Malcolm for the pleasure of buying bargains for him. She had therefore attempted to wrest this privilege out of Simon's hands, but in vain ; she had picked up a pennyworth of a wig, which she said " looked remarkably neat on the hand," but which Simon turned up his nose at, and his master threw into the fire. She had haggled till she was hoarse about a dozen of cotton pocket-handkerchiefs, which, after all, Simon pronounced to be perfectly useless, as they were of the diamond pattern, and his master would not blow his nose with anything but a spot. Her improvements upon flannel jackets had very nearly caused a formal separation, and from that time her active energies not being permitted to exercise themselves either upon her household affairs or her husband's wardrobe, had centred entirely in her own person. She lived in a perpetual, weak, impotent bustle about nothing, spent her money in buying hoards of useless clothes, and her time in looking at them, folding and unfolding them, airing them, locking them up, protecting them from the moths in summer, and mildew in winter, and so on. To crown the whole, she set up for being a sensible woman, and talked maudlin nonsense by the yard ; for she was one of those who would ask if the sea produced corn, rather than hold her tongue, ^t Here it may be remarked, that it requires a great deal of mind to be silent at the right time and place. ';^ True, there are some few gifted individuals, whose conversation flows like a continued stream, fertilising all around, enriching others without DESTINY. 47 impoverishing themselves ; but how different from the idle chatter of empty heads, whose only sounds are caused by their own hollowness. " Two things there are indi- cative of a weak mind," says Saadi, the Persian sage, " to be silent when it is proper to speak, and to speak when it is proper to be silent." Such was the help- mate of Inch Orran. " 1 am happy to see you, gentlemen," said she, in a little tiresome, croaking voice ; " indeed, I'm thankful to see any body, for this is such a lonely out-of-the-way place. I was just saying this morning, what an improve- ment a town would be on the waterside ; it would be a great ornament, and of great use in making a stir, and giving employment to poor people, and very convenient too. I am surprised it has never struck any body to set such a thing a-going, when there's such a want of em- ployment for the poor." " Rome was not built in a day, you know, ma'am," said the facetious Mr M'Dow, with one of his loud laughs ; " but if you will use your influence with Inch Orran, and prevail upon him to begin, there's no saying where it may end" — another peal — "and I hope the kirk and the manse will not be forgot. Inch Orran." " Still less the stipend, sir," said Inch Orran, with one of his vicious sneers. " I'll answer for it the stipend will no get leave to be forgot," returned the incorrigible Mr M'Dow, with one of his loudest roars ; " you may trust the minister for keeping you in mind of that." " I believe I may, sir." " And let it be a good one at the first. Inch Orran, that he may not have such a battle to fight for his augmentation as I have had. I really think the Teind Court has taken an entire wrong view of the subject there, or they would have given me the decreet at 4^ DESTINY. once. — You'll no go along with me there, Glen- roy." But Glenroy disdained to reply ; so the little old man said, " It was the saying, sir, of one of the wisest judges who ever sat upon the Scottish bench, that a poor clergy made a pure clergy — a maxim which deserves to be engraven in letters of gold on every manse in Scotland." " Deed, then, I can tell you. Inch Orran, the gold would be very soon piket off," returned Mr M'Dow, with redoubled bursts of laughter. " Na, na, you must keep the gold for your fine English Episcopalian palaces, where it's no so scarce as it's among us ; " and Mr M*Dow perfectly revelled in the delight of this ]eu d^ esprit. Mrs Malcolm now struck in. "I am quite tormented with these midges. I don't think they'll leave the skin upon me. I wish they would bite you, Mr Malcolm " " Perhaps, sir, you would wish some refreshment," said Inch Orran, addressing Glenroy, in a voice louder and shriller than that with which Punch denounces Polly. The Chief, who was still under the influence of a late and luxurious breakfast, declined ; but upon the same offer (if offer it could be called) being put to Benbowie, he was so little in the habit of refusing any thing, except to give money, and besides had such a willing appetite, that he at once greedily assented. Mr M'Dow rubbed his hands, drew out his pocket-hand- kerchief, placed his hands upon his knees, and began snuffing the air, as though he already caught the scent of some savoury mess. The bell was faintly rung by Inch Orran, but some minutes elapsed, and no one answered. " That's always the way with that Simon," said Mrs Malcolm ; " I'm sure I wish we had a well-behaved, clever, active boy, for " DESTINY. 49 But a bitter look, and a sh — sh, from her lord, stopped her tongue, while a fierce tingle of the bell brought forth Simon. " Refreshments, if you please, Simon," said his master, in a softer tone and manner than he had yet evinced. " Refreshments, sir ? " repeated Simon, putting his hand to his forehead, with an air of great perplexity. " I think some warm broth would be the best thing in such a warm day," said Mrs Malcolm ; " for, when people are warm, they should never take any thing cold — it's very dangerous — I had an aunt once " " Something cold, Simon," said his master, decidedly. "Cold, sir?" repeated Simon; then, seeming to recollect himself, he withdrew. Then ensued a great deal of heavy tramping to and fro, and a mighty clattering of plates, knives, and forks, which was music to the ears of Benbowie and Mr M'Dow. At length entered Simon, and, with much seeming exertion, began to rub down a table (although there was neither speck nor spot upon it) in the most osten- tatious manner, puffing and blowing all the while, as though he had been in the treadmill. "Take care of the carpet, Simon," said his mistress ; but Simon seemed as though he heard her not. He then unfolded and carefully laid a table-cloth with mathematical precision, retiring a few paces to judge of its general effect, and then returning to adjust what his eye pronounced to be amiss. " I think the cloth should be rather more this way, Simon," said his mistress, drawing it towards her, with an air of great importance. "Tut," muttered Simon, as he jerked it in the contrary direction. Once more he withdrew, and another pause ensued, I. D 50 DESTINY. during which Glenroy made another attempt to draw his host into conversation. "This is a beautiful situation of yours, Inch Orran," said he ; "I really know nothing finer." " It is a very desirable property, sir," returned the old man, with marked emphasis. "You have one of the noblest views in Scotland from these windows," said the Chief, proudly, as he looked on his own princely domain. " It may be, sir ; but I have other things to look to than fine views on this neglected property," replied Inch Orran. "That's precisely my own case. Inch Orran," said Mr M'Dow. "One person has been saying, when they came to the manse, * O what a beautiful situation, Mr M'Dow ! ' Another says, * Oh, such a grand view, Mr M'Dow ! ' Another cries, * I really think you beat Glenroy himself, in your prospects, Mr M'Dow.' That may all be, says I ; but the best prospects I have in view are a comfortable manse, an addition to the glebe, and the decreet for my augmenta- tion. Ho, hoch, hoch, ho." Neither Glenroy nor Inch Orran took the smallest notice of this sally ; and the former continued to address the latter. " I have the advantage of you in one respect, Inch Orran ; for this place of yours forms one of the finest features in the view from my drawing-room windows ; though, without vanity, I may say Glenroy is also a very fine object from yours." " Probably, sir, you may have more pleasure in the view of my property than I have in contemplating yours." Glenroy felt his cheek flush at this palpable hit ; but just then the door was thrown wide open, and Simon appeared with his arms at full stretch, bearing a tray, DESTINY. 5 1 which he deposited on a side table, and then proceeded to arrange its contents with the same bustling import- ance. At the top of the table was placed the wizened nib of a tongue, and vis-a-vis the almost bare blade-bone of a shoulder of mutton ; on one side a thin slice of bread was confronted with a few potatoes ; at the corners were a jug of whey, and another of water ; a decanter containing a few glasses of port, and a bottle of currant wine, stale and sour, and tasting, as currant wine sometimes does, of brown sugar, blue paper, yellow soap, cork, candle, twine, and vinegar. The two expectants had felt their appetites consider- ably damped at sight of the cheer provided for them ; they, however, seated themselves, though with rueful faces. To do them justice, neither of them were nice, but they both loved a savoury mess, something to make a slop with ; something to eat with their knives — what they ought to eat with their forks. But, alas ! here was no room for such a display ; for though Mr M'Dow, as the younger and stronger man, contrived both to cut and chew the inflexible remains of the tongue, poor Benbowie was completely baffled in the attempt ; and all he could do was to crumble down a bit of bread, and spill half a glass of wine on the tablecloth, after which he declared he had had enough — quite enough, on his conscience ; while the master of the revels drank to the health of his guests very graciously in a glass of green whey. " I shall let the old miser see what good living is ! " thought Glenroy, as he began a pompous and pressing invitation to his kinsman to spend a few days with him, accompanied by ostentatious offers of barge, pinnace, carriages, horses, servants, &c. — " It is my intention to spend a couple of days with you, sir, before I leave the country," replied Inch Orran ; " and, if agreeable to 5 2 DESTINY. you, when I can make it convenient to myself, I shall not fail to apprise you." This was more than Glenroy had expected, or per- haps wished for, now that he had experienced the nature of the man ; but, of course, he was all pleasure, gratification, and so forth. A hope was then expressed that Mrs Malcolm would join the party. *' Most certainly, sir," replied Inch Orran. " / keep no separate establishment for my wife." " I'm sure I shall be very happy to go," said she ; " for I'll be thankful to go any where, this is such a dull place. Only if the ladies here dress much to go out to dinner, I'm sure I don't know what I shall do, Mr Malcolm, for a cap for " But a — " sh — sh," and a wave of his hand from her husband, stopped her mouth, and the visitors took leave. As they traversed the long passage, they descried Simon at the other extremity, waddling along with a foaming tankard in one hand, and a long-necked bottle in the other ; and, at the same time, the nostrils of Ben- bowie and Mr M'Dow were assailed with the smell of some very gusty viands, towards which Mr Simon seemed to have been steering his course. The half-open door of a housekeeper's room, from whence issued the fragrance, induced them both to thrust in their heads ; and there stood disclosed a table neatly laid for two, with a smoking tureen of hodge- podge, and a magnificent jowl of salmon. At this sight the two stood as if entranced, with open mouths and outstretched necks ; but it was of short duration, for directly a quick foot — an invisible hand — and the door was shut with an angry slap. " On my conscience ! but I would rather be the man than the master," said Benbowie, with a grunt of dis- satisfaction, as he followed his friend to the barge. *' At least, I would rather take pot-luck with him," DESTINY. 53 said Mr M*Dow, with a faint attempt at a laugh, as, with a discomfited air, he betook himself to his Amailye, (as he had christened his pony, in honour of the Lady Kindullie,) and trotted away in quest of better cheer. Chapter jc* Your hermit, young and jovial sirs I Learns something from whate'er occurs. COWPER. GLEN ROY returned home much dissatisfied with his visit. He had been provoked at the dry impertinence of the old man, disgusted with the tiresome weakness of his wife, and incensed beyond measure at the innumerable offences of Mr M'Dow. Neither was his ill-humour appeased, when, at the end of a week, he received the following despatch, written in the plainest, and squarest, and most inflexible of hands. " Mr Mungo Malcolm presents his compliments to Mr Norman Malcolm of Glenroy, and if still con- venient for him to receive a visit, Mr Mungo Malcolm will, in pursuance of his original intention, wait upon him on Wednesday next, the twentieth ult., in the course of the afternoon, and purposes to be his guest till the following Saturday forenoon, when he positively takes leave. Mr M. Malcolm will be accompanied by his wife and male servant." Glenroy chafed like a boar at being thus addressed as Mr Norman Malcolm, and scouted the whole style of the billet ; but it is much to be wished that the world in general, and many very worthy people in par- ticular, would follow the example of Mr Mungo Mai- 54 DESTINY. colm, in thus precisely marking the limits of their intended stay. All householders, whatever they may pretend, must at some period or other have groaned under the inde- finable misery of an undefined length of visit, and every family must have felt the want of a chronometer, for ascertaining the respective ideas of both parties, as to the reasonable latitude and longitude of a visit. In good old times, Scotland had its regular standard measure for visiting, as it had for its oatmeal and potatoes. A rest day, a drest day, and a prest day, were the appointed measure of a visitor's days. The first was consecrated to repose, after the fatigues of the journey, whether there had been a journey or not ; the second was allotted to showing off the full-dress suit, prepared perhaps for the occasion ; and the third was delicately appropriated to the pressing solicitations of the host, and always conferred as an act of bounty over and above. Thus both parties were pleased, the presser and the pressed ; the presser at having con- quered, the pressed at having conceded ; and thus they parted, happy to part, happy to meet, and happy to part again. But since this barrier has been broken down by modern innovation, visiting has no longer any limits, except such as exist in the minds of the respective parties; and, accordingly, "there's the respect" that makes cautious people pause before bringing upon them- selves a visit. A visit ! how vague — how undefined — how dark — how immeasurable — how obscure — how un- fathomable — how mysterious — is a visit ! A visit may be meant for a day, or a week, or a month ; and it may be 'taken for a winter, or a summer, or a year! A visit may be the cement of friendship, or it may be the bane of domestic happiness ! A visit may be like an angel's coming, brief and rare, or it may be like DESTINY. 55 a wounded crocodile, dragging its slow length along. But none of these evils could befall the host of Mr Mungo Malcolm, for the day, and hour, and minute of his departure were always settled, as upon this occasion, long before his arrival. Glenroy anticipated anything but pleasure from this visit, but he comforted himself by considering it as a compliment, and the next thing to being declared heir to Inch Orran. He therefore resolved to pay all honour to his guest, and to win his heart by the good cheer and gaiety he would provide for him. The appointed day arrived — a raw, bleak, chill, unhappy-looking day ; not stormy enough to be grand, but just rough enough to be disagreeable. The hills were covered with mist, the sky with clouds, the sea with foam, and doubts were entertained whether the old man would venture forth on such a day, when in the midst of mist, and clouds, and rain, and foam, a little black dripping boat was descried rowing along, which being run ashore, out stepped Inch Orran, his aspect completely harmonising with that of nature. Next was dragged forth Mrs Malcolm, a mass of cloaks and shawls. Next followed Simon, with a small bundle under his arm, his person snugly ensconced beneath a large umbrella, which he affected to hold carefully over his lady, but of which she got only the droppings. The Laird and his lady were welcomed by Glenroy with every demonstration of courtesy and good-will. They were received by him in his great hall, decorated with banners, and broad-swords, and dirks, and clay- mores, and targets, and deers' heads, and warlike trophies of every description, amidst which a con- sequential full-plumed piper paced to and fro. Alto- gether, the effect was grand and imposing, but it was quite lost upon the guests. Inch Orran, if he noticed 56 DESTINY. at all, noticed only to hate such trumpery, and his lady did not know a dirk from a deer's horn. Glen- roy's attempts at striking them with awe on their first entrance were therefore all in vain ; it was to no purpose that he pointed out the stately banner of one chief, and the singular dirk of another, and related anecdotes per- taining to each. Inch Orran's horrid listening eyes were bent straight upon him, but he never opened his lips unless to utter a monosyllable. But still more enraging was his lady's commotion, upon discovering that she had lost one of her gloves ; it was a new glove, a pink glove, a French glove, a habit glove ; it was the fellow of the glove she had on ; she must have left it in the boat, or it must have fallen into the sea, or she must have dropped it on the road, or Simon must have seen it, or it must be in Mr Malcolm's pocket, for it could not be lost, and it was not about her ; and she shook herself round and round in testimony thereof. These her surmises and lamenta- tions were uttered in a low, slow, monotonous tone to Benbowie and Mrs Macauley, as with a dementit air she looked all round about, and not seeing her pink glove, she saw nothing else. Mrs Macauley and Ben- bowie bestirred themselves with all their might in search of the stray glove ; they had each lost gloves at different periods of their lives, they therefore knew what it was to lose a glove. They entered into the nature of the loss ; they wondered for it, they lamented for it, they poked about for it in all improbable as well as impossible places ; in short, all the energies of their heads, hearts, and hands, were put in motion for the recovery of the glove, but in vain. Simon was next summoned, and he ended the matter at once by boldly declaring, that he had seen the glove drop into the water as his lady was coming out of the boat. DESTINY. 57 " I'm sure I never know whether to believe Simon or not," said the lady to Mrs Macauley ; " for I think he'll say anything just to save himself trouble." A rich repast, under the head of luncheon, was now served up ; but this Inch Orran refused point blank even to approach, and, upon being pressed by his host to partake, in a manner that savoured more of hospitality than of free will left to his guest, he said in his most peremptory manner, " Sir, I make it a rule to dine but once a day." This was uttered in a tone not to be dis- puted ; but he added, in a somewhat softer key, " but I request, sir, I may be no restraint on your usual prac- tices," and motioning his host towards the table, he betook himself to a far-off corner of the room, the most remote and inaccessible, where he began to read a news- paper, and Glenroy, already boiling at his dogged impertinence, left him to chew the cud of his own reflections, while he did the honours of the banquet. The party were scarcely seated, when young Norman came bounding into the apartment in all the exuberance of unchecked animal spirits, just let loose from the restraints of the schoolroom, and evidently master of his own actions every where else. He was a handsome sprightly boy, with a haughty careless air, that showed he was already aware of his own importance. He eyed Inch Orran for a moment, with a look that seemed to say, " Who are you ? " as he brushed past him to the table, followed by a large greyhound. " Go and shake hands with that gentleman, Norman," said his father ; " that is Inch Orran." But Norman heard as though he heard him not. " I am so hungry, papa," said he, casting a wander- ing glance from dish to dish all over the table ; " I hope you have got something good for me. — O do make haste, pray. — No, no, I won't have a mutton-chop," drawing away his plate quickly as Mrs Macauley was 58 DESTINY. preparing to help him ; then, as suddenly retracting, " Yes, you may give me one for Fingal. — Here Fin, Fin, my pretty fellow, here's a mutton-chop for you — now eat it like a gentleman, and don't grease the carpet." " Norman, did you hear me desire you to go and shake hands with our friend, Inch Orran ? " said Glenroy, in a more authoritative tone. " Yes, papa, I will presently, but " " Go then, sir, when I desire you," cried the Chief, in rising displeasure. " Yes, papa — Ah ! ham-pie, that is so good ! " and he jumped and shook his hands in ecstacy. " Now, do give me some, papa, there is nothing I love so much." " Unless you do as I desire you, sir, deuce a bit of anything you shall taste to-day," cried Glenroy, angrily ; his authority over his son always requiring to be backed by a threat, or a bribe, or an oath ; some- times by all three. " Well, then, remember you promised me some ham- pie, papa ; " and slowly approaching Inch Orran, with his head riveted to the table, and his eye upon the dish, he extended his hand to him ; but it met with no corre- sponding movement on the part of Inch Orran, whose hands remained firmly closed before him. Nowise disconcerted, however, his young kinsman made a sort of snatch at his hand, and then, satisfied he had done his part, skipped away back to enjoy the reward of his obedience. Glenroy took a glance at the old man in the corner, but he did not like his look. His lips were drawn in till they were invisible ; his cheeks were dis- tended like bolus's bags, and his eyes glared like a cat's in the dark. His lady was all this while seated between Benbowie and Mrs Macauley, and enjoying herself to her heart's content in conversing with them, " What's become of Reginald and Edith to-day ? " enquired Glenroy, and at that moment the sound of DESTINY. 59 young voices in the hall seemed to answer the question. Fingal pricked up his years, and wagged his tail, while his master sprang up, and bounded away, followed by his favourite, who almost jumped over Inch Orran, in his eagerness to gain the door. " What are these children about ? " demanded Glenroy, angrily, as the uproar increased. " You must come in — you shall come in — don't let him' go — hold him fast," resounded through the hall, and presently entered a youthful group, consisting of the three children of the house, all hanging round a fine manly-looking boy, dripping wet, and evidently of a different stock from his more dainty-looking com- panions. " There is Ronald, papa," whispered Edith, as she ran up to her father. " Well, and what of that ? " answered he, in a dis- satisfied tone. " Do you see no greater strangers than him here, that you should be making all this noise ? " Edith blushed, and turned to Mrs Malcolm ; then, but with still more timidity, went to Inch Orran, who relaxing from his sternness, took the little hand that was held out to him, and even bestowed a pat on the head, as if to make up for the rebuff she had met with from her father. Meanwhile the two boys had com- pelled their guest to approach the table, quite uncon- scious of the haughty looks with which Glenroy regarded him. " Now you are our prisoner," cried Norman ; " so sit down, and you shall have something to eat, though you deserve to be fed on bread and water, for attempt- ing to escape. — Here, Fin, at him, if he offers to stir without my leave." " How your dirty shoes have stained my trousers," said Reginald pettishly, as he rubbed some spots of mud from his white trousers ; " I wish I hadn't gone 6o DESTINY. near you ; and T am so hot," putting his fingers through his hair ; and throwing himself at full length upon two chairs, he began to fan himself with a napkin. " So, Master Ronald, what has brought you here this bad day ? " enquired the Chieftain in no very encouraging accent. The boy coloured, as if he felt the rudeness of the enquiry ; then answered, " I came to return Norman's fishing-rod." " Pooh — there could be no hurry in that," said the Chief, still more coldly. " 1 promised to bring it to-day," said Ronald. " Pshaw, what signified that," said Norman care- lessly ; " you needn't have got yourself wet for a pro- mise, if that was all." " I would rather have to swim for my life, than break my word," said Ronald warmly. The two boys burst into a fit of laughing. " On my conscience, but there's a great difference," said Benbowie, with a look of alarm. " Come, come, let us have no more nonsense," said Glenroy, impatiently ; " and if you're for any thing to eat, boys, make haste, for every body's done." Ronald declined the ungracious invitation, and was retiring, when he was again seized by his two friends. " O, you know, you are our prisoner ; so you needn't attempt to get away. You must stay, and you shall eat. So sit down." " Must and shall I " repeated Ronald, with a smile ; while his open countenance and fine intrepid air showed that he yielded more from good-humour, than from false shame or fear ; for he wore " upon his forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer A face w^hich gladness overspread, And looks by human kindness bred.' DESTINY. 6 1 Altogether there was an air of noble, artless sim- plicity about the boy extremely prepossessing, and ren- dered still more striking when contrasted with the more artificial elegance of his companions, and the saucy capricious airs of superiority which marked the children of consequence. " Now, although you are a prisoner," said Norman, " I shall allow you to choose for yourself. What will you have ? Here is a ham-pie which I can recom- mend. — Papa, I told Barclay that I thought he had put rather too many truffles and morels in the last, and not enough of eggs ; and, by the by, plover's eggs are much the best. — If you like venison, Ronald, here is a hash, which is by far the best way of eating venison, at least in my opinion." " I'll take a mutton chop," said Ronald, helping himself to what was next to him. " A mutton chop ! horrible ! that's Fingal's dish ; but he wouldn't eat them now, for they are almost cold." " It is very good," said Ronald, eating with a hearty appetite. " Perhaps you choose a cold potato too," said Reginald, contemptuously, holding one up. " Warm ones are better," said Ronald, taking a potato ; " but I don't care — it doesn't signify." " No ; to be sure, if people have no taste, it does not signify," said Norman, piqued at the indifference of his guest, and bent upon showing his power and conse- quence, especially before such queer-looking people as Inch Orran and his lady. " You are quite wet, Ronald," said Edith softly, as she put her hand on his arm. Then whispered to her father, " Pray, papa, give Ronald a glass of wine." " Here's a glass of wine for you," said Glenroy, pouring it out ungraciously, and as if he wished to end the scene ; but Ronald declined taking it. 62 DESTINY. " Do take it, dear Ronald," said Edith. " We shall make him take it," said the young heir, whose hospitality was of the most peremptory nature. *' If I was to take it for any body, it would be for Edith," said Ronald ; " but I don't choose any wine, thank you." " Come, drink it off, and go away and amuse your- selves somewhere else," cried Glenroy, in a very bad humour. Ronald instantly rose, but was again seized by his two tormentors. " O you shall not stir till you have drank it to the last drop." And Norma-n, taking the glass of wine, would have forced it to his lips ; but he shook him off. " Nothing will make me drink wine," said he, firmly. "Oh, you are a Turk, a Mussulman ! — a Turk, a Turk ! " shouted the two boys in derision. " He is an obstinate dog," said Glenroy ; " let him alone." Ronald's colour rose, but he said nothing. " What is the reason you refuse to drink, my boy ? " demanded Inch Orran, emerging from his corner, where he had been an attentive spectator of all that had passed. Ronald met his sharp inquisitive glance with the clear ingenuous expression of his full blue eye ; but he was silent for a moment, then said, — " Because my father wishes me not to drink wine." " And why ? " Ronald cast down his eyes. " O, I know the reason now," whispered the two boys, nodding to each other with half-suppressed smiles, then whispering, " it's because they're so poor." Ronald instantly shook off his embarrassment, and looking up, said, " He can't afford to give us wine at home." DESTINY. 63 " On my conscience, and that's the very reason you should get leave to take it when you can get it else- where," said Benbowie. " Well, well, we have had enough of this," cried Glenroy, impatiently ; *' go away, and divert your- selves elsewhere, children. — Good morning, Mr Ronald." And Ronald, in spite of the forcible attempts of his friends to detain him, shook them off with ease, and darted away in the midst of a heavy rain. " That's the son of Jack Malcolm of Lochdhu ? " said Inch Orran, fixing his inquisitorial eyes full upon Glenroy, who felt that an apology was due for this ill-timed meeting with the son of the man he detested, and he replied, " Yes. I'm sorry this should have happened. Inch Orran — but the father is a tacksman of mine — I couldn't be off letting him have a farm that joined to his own bit of property, and that boy has got a sort of footing here through the children ; they're glad of companions near their own age." " How many children has Jack Malcolm ? " asked the old man, abruptly. " About a dozen, I believe," said Glenroy, con- temptuously. " And that is his eldest son ? " " Yes ; and if he had been mine, and I had been in his father's situation, he shouldn't have been idling away his time at home. I gave them my advice, which was to send that boy to some cheap public school in Eng- land, where he would learn something of the world, which is the thing for a boy that has his way to make in it. But they wouldn't hear of it ; said they would rather live upon bread and water than send any child of theirs to a great school. However, they are not just at that, for they can at least give them kail and porridge;" with a laush of derision. 64 DESTINY. A spark shot from the corner of Inch Orran's eye, as he turned abruptly away, muttering something be- tween his teeth. The rain fell without intermission for the rest of the day, which seemed of endless duration to both parties, and Glenroy was at last obliged to have recourse to Mrs Macauley's much despised musical powers to while away the time. As mendicants, whose business is to roam, Make every parish but their own their home. COWPER. THE following day cleared up, and there was a bright sun, and a sweet blowing wind, and every thing looked gay, and every body pleased, ex- cept Inch Orran, who minded neither sun nor wind, and was alike insensible to the charms of nature and the influence of weather. Glenroy had invited a large party, that is, he had summoned all who were within call to do honour to his kinsman's visit, and the house (which indeed was seldom empty) had continued to fill during the whole morning with invited guests, as also with chance drop- pers-in of various descriptions. The Chief felt as if there was safety from his kinsman's ill-humour in the multitude that surrounded him ; his courage rose, his spirits revived, and he was himself again. But it was a transitory calm. The dinner hour was drawing near, the guests were all assembled, when suddenly, borne on the breeze, came the distant neighing of a steed. Glen- roy started and turned red ; another and another loud, and long, and shrill, and joyful burst ; it was the well- known happy neigh of Amailye, announcing the approach DESTINY. 65 of Mr Duncan M*Dow ! Had the castle possessed a drawbridge, it certainly would have been raised on the instant, but as there were neither javelin-men nor moat to oppose him, the minister rode boldly on, arrayed as usual in his large woolly great-coat and red worsted comforter. Mrs Malcolm caught the sough of his name, and thereupon thought proper to address Glenroy. " Is that the Mr M'Dow that was so good as to call one day at Inch Orran ? what an uncommon plea- sant, sensible, well-informed man he is ! I was really very much pleased with him ; he's so polite and well- bred, and has so much to say ; he seems a very superior man ; it must be a great advantage to have such a man for a clergyman, and I'm sure you have great credit in your choice, for there's really something so very — ahem — a — so uncommonly — a — a — so much of the gentle- man about him." Glenroy disdained to reply. Here the announcement of Mr M*Dow put a stop to the remarks, and presently his heavy foot announced itself. Although there was a large assemblage of ladies and gentlemen present, Mr M'Dow, as usual, made a point of grappling with each individually, right and left, here and there, cross hands and down backs, in the most indefatigable manner. Then fastening upon his host, he burst out with one of his avant-courier roars of laughter. " Well, Glenroy, there's one thing, I'm sure, you'll not say of me, as was said of a poor friend of mine, who was thought rather neglectful of his parish in the visiting way, and something too metapheesical in his discoorses from his pulpit — it was really very neatly said — ho, hoch, how — that he was a most wonderful man, for he was invisible six days in the week, and incom- prehensible on the seventh ; very clever, rather severe, 66 DESTINY. to be sure, but it was really just the truth — how, how, ho, hoch." Glenroy was not like Hamlet. He could have used daggers, but he could not speak them. He did not excel in repartee at any time, for, when provoked, he was instantly in a passion ; and not daring to give scope to it in the present instance, all he could do was to dart a furious glance at the intruder, and turn on his heel. But heel or toe, it was all one to the minister, who was quite insensible to all rebuffs, especially as he met with a warm reception from such of the party as, being more remote and inaccessible in their dwellings, and having nothing to say as to the augmentation, were not favoured with so much of his company in their own houses. And as one person of easy manners — no matter how vulgar — is always acceptable to the guests, whatever he may be to the host, Mr M