L I E. RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 St>582m 
 v.l
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/ministerssonorho01stir
 
 /^^ 
 
 THE MINISTEK'S SON
 
 THE MINISTER'S SON 
 
 Oil 
 
 HOME WITH HOXOUES 
 
 M. C. STIELIXG 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 'MISSIXG proofs,' 'GRAHAMS OF IXVERMOY, ETC. 
 
 •TN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDIXBUEGH AND LONDON' 
 
 MDCCCLXXXII
 
 V. 1 , 
 
 COMMENTS OF THE FIRST TOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 EARLY FRIENDS, .... 
 
 1 
 
 II. 
 
 AULD JAMIE 
 
 22 
 
 III. 
 
 BREAKING INTO HARNESS, 
 
 39 
 
 IV. 
 
 MISS FORBES, 
 
 62 
 
 V. 
 
 "STURM UND DRANG," 
 
 80 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER, 
 
 98 
 
 VII. 
 
 UNDER THE SPELL, .... 
 
 118 
 
 VIII. 
 
 BEYOND HIS GRASP, .... 
 
 139 
 
 IX. 
 
 ON THE B1{INK OF DECISION, 
 
 160 
 
 X. 
 
 THE DIE IS CAST, . . . . . 
 
 182 
 
 XI. 
 
 " WOO'd an' MARRIED AN' a'," 
 
 210 
 
 XII. 
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL, . . . . 
 
 235 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A FRESH START 
 
 257 
 
 XIV. 
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 
 
 283
 
 THE MINISTEE'S SON. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 EARLY F E I E X D S. 
 
 '' Bairn, what book's that you're reading ? " 
 
 " ' Eobinson Crusoe/ mother." 
 
 '' ' Eobinson Crusoe ! ' You're aye at that. 
 Can ye not read some douce bairn's story, 
 ' Tom and his Brother,' or ' Charlie's Home/ 
 or some of those books ye get from the House, 
 instead of yon wild traveller's tales ? " 
 
 '' Tam was an awfu' gowk, mither, and 
 I couldna hae bided in Charlie's hame/' 
 returned the boy, with a merry twinkle in 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 his grey eyes; but liis mother did not 
 answer the look with her usual kindly 
 smile. 
 
 " The tree grows the way the twig's in- 
 clined/^ she answered, gravely ; "and it would 
 better suit you, a minister's son, and that 
 are to be a minister yourself, to read dif- 
 ferent books from that," and pointing to 
 the offending volume, she turned away and 
 left the room. 
 
 The boy laid aside his 'Crusoe,' and lean- 
 ing his arms on the low sill, gazed sadly 
 out of the window — far too sadly for one 
 so vouno;. 
 
 "Mother's vexed again," he thought — "I 
 know by the sound of her voice. When 
 she's going about the house of a morning, 
 and all's right, she speaks almost like the 
 village folk ; but when any thing's wrong, 
 she gets to her English. I'm to be a 
 minister ; but why shouldn't I read travels, 
 for all that ? or why shouldn't I be a mis-
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. 3 
 
 sionary and go among the heathen ? Td 
 like it a sight better than stopping in one 
 bit of a place all my days. But it'll have 
 to b^e as my father wills." 
 
 With a deep sigh the child — for he was 
 not more than ten — took up his beloved 
 book again, and was soon lost to every- 
 thing but the wonders it contained. 
 
 This grey - eyed, brown - haired, broad- 
 shouldered boy was Ronald Bennett, the 
 only surviving son of the minister of 
 Tillybodle, and the reader must be intro- 
 duced somewhat at length to his parents 
 and their surroundings. 
 
 Tillybodle was a village lying in the 
 fair carse that stretches along the banks 
 of the River Forth between the Ochills and 
 the Campsie hills, — a region calculated to 
 foster a love of the beautiful in nature, 
 and also that deep-seated feeling so aptly 
 described by the Germans as love of the 
 fatherland, a feeling differing immeasurably
 
 4 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 both in strength and nobleness from the 
 narrow and somewhat aggressive sentiment 
 so often miscalled patriotism. 
 
 The minister, a man of strong affections, 
 but of iron will, and stern if simple faith, 
 was well able to appreciate the beauties of 
 the spot in which it had been his lot to 
 dwell for fully forty years ; but his calm 
 admiration hardly kept pace with the 
 warmer enthusiasm of his wife. 
 
 The daughter of a Perthshire bonnet- 
 laird, Marion Macgregor had a Highland- 
 er's passionate nature, schooled and con- 
 trolled by the circumstances of her life, 
 her husband's quiet example, the duties 
 of her position, and the sacred teachings 
 of sorrow. 
 
 It had not been without many an effort 
 and many a secret tear that she had learnt 
 to hold in check the quick temper, the 
 hasty scathing speech, perhaps repented of 
 as soon as uttered ; and even yet, as her son
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. D 
 
 had shrewdly remarked, the inflections of 
 her voice, no less than her choice of words, 
 betrayed when she was strongly moved. 
 
 He was wrong, however, when he associ- 
 ated his mother's English with disapproval 
 alone ; her tenderest thoughts, her most 
 earnest prayers, found expression in the 
 tongue which she had learnt slowly and 
 carefully in the Gaelic home, whose lan- 
 guage she had wellnigh forgotten. 
 
 About the soft Southern tonorue clunsj 
 many memories of her happy girlhood, when 
 she had held her head hi^fh amon^ the 
 small farmers and shopkeepers of the dis- 
 trict in which she lived. Being unusually 
 well educated, and handsome withal, no 
 one thouo^ht it remarkable that she should 
 expect in some way to better her position 
 in the world. But surprise was felt and 
 expressed when it became clear that her 
 one chosen friend was no other than Miss 
 Muriel Campbell, whose father owned miles
 
 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 of heathery hillside, as well as sundry low- 
 lying farms beside the loch. 
 
 Muriel was as lonely in her castle as 
 Marion in the quaint old house of Glen 
 Monach, which stood a little aside from 
 its far more imposing farm-buildings. 
 
 Eailways had not as yet pierced and 
 terraced the wild hills; and though the 
 castle was usually full of guests in the 
 summer, when communication was easier, 
 there were long months when no visitor 
 ever entered its gates, save the minister, 
 or some adventurous neighbour who, un- 
 deterred by rough roads and shortening 
 twilight, rode over to lunch. 
 
 It was natural that at these times the 
 young girls should be drawn together, and 
 that an acquaintance which had begun in 
 ordinary neighbourly courtesy should ripen 
 into intimacy. 
 
 When Muriel found that this Highland 
 girl in her solitude knew more of many
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. 7 
 
 books than she herself, her pleasure was 
 greater even than her surprise ; and as she 
 was of a clinging gentle nature, she soon 
 learnt to lean upon her stronger and more 
 impetuous friend. 
 
 Sometimes Marion would hasten over 
 her household work, and having baked her 
 daintiest scones and filled the white jug 
 with her richest cream, would leave the 
 "lassie" to arrange the tea-things while 
 she sat with Muriel in the wide parlour, 
 the fire shining cheerily on the old oak 
 chairs and wainscoted walls, and lighting 
 up the two young faces as the girls drew 
 nearer to the blaze. 
 
 Sometimes it was Muriel who played the 
 hostess, and received Marion in her own 
 boudoir, which, in spite of its thick carpet, 
 long sofa, and thin-legged cabinets full of 
 shells, curiosities, and Jacobite relics, was 
 not more comfortable than the picturesque 
 parlour at the Glen.
 
 8 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 In the beginning of their friendship it 
 was Muriel who had to make all the 
 advances. Marion met her cordially, and 
 showed evident pleasure in her society, 
 but carefully avoided utteriog any word 
 which might suggest that she desired to 
 push herself forward. At last Muriel de- 
 termined to break through the reserve, 
 which excited in her a corresponding shy- 
 ness, and begged her to come up to tea at 
 the castle. 
 
 Marion coloured brightly, and quietly 
 declined; she would rather not, she said 
 simply, disdaining to invent any excuses. 
 
 For a moment Muriel Campbell paused, 
 and a shade of vexation clouded her face ; 
 then she placed her hands on her compan- 
 ion s shoulders and said quickly, "If you 
 will not come to me, I shall come to you. 
 I know you have tea now; will you give 
 me a cup ? " 
 
 " With great pleasure," replied Marion,
 
 EAELY FRIEXDS. \) 
 
 and led the way to the parlour, where Miss 
 Campbell allowed her to set out the tea- 
 table with more than the usual display. 
 
 Again and yet again did the kindly girl 
 come there, and on each occasion Marion's 
 pride visibly softened. 
 
 When she thought she might venture on 
 another step, Miss Campbell asked her sud- 
 denly if she used that fine old silver cream- 
 jug every day. 
 
 "When we're alone 1 Oh no," replied Ma- 
 rion ; " but we like to honour our guests." 
 
 " But I am not a mere guest, Marion ; I 
 want to be a friend, if you will only let me. 
 Don't you care for me enough 1 " 
 
 " You know well I care," replied Marion, 
 looking fondly at the delicate pleading face. 
 
 "Then if you do, put away that silver 
 jug ; give me just the tea you'd have your- 
 self, and don't make me feel that you set 
 me aside because my father is richer than 
 yours. You are horribly proud, Marion ! "
 
 10 THE minister's SON. 
 
 The girls gazed at each other for a 
 moment in silence, then to Muriel's dismay 
 Marion quietly left the room. 
 
 She returned presently, however, with a 
 plain white jug, into which she poured the 
 cream, and setting it down, remarked de- 
 murely — 
 
 ''That's my worst jug — it's cracked; I 
 hope you're satisfied." 
 
 " Perfectly : you are a dear girl. Give me 
 a bit of scone now, please, for I'm hungry." 
 
 The meal went on merrily after this ; and 
 as Muriel was leaving, she asked in a mat- 
 ter-of-fact tone — 
 
 " When are you coming to tea with me, 
 Marion ? will Wednesday do 1 " 
 
 Marion laughed. " You get your own 
 way; and it's no to be wondered at. Well, 
 I'd like to see you at home, and I'll come 
 if I'm to see nobody but yourself" 
 
 '' Mamma is an invalid, as you know. 
 Papa is sure to be busy ; and besides, he
 
 EAELY FEIENDS. 11 
 
 never comes to my boudoir. There are 
 no visitors, and you'll come early and stay 
 late," said Muriel. 
 
 Marion Macgregor obeyed this imperious 
 command, and that Wednesday was but 
 the first of many pleasant meetings. 
 
 She kept to her determination, and 
 avoided the castle when guests were 
 there ; but more than once Miss Campbell 
 took a favoured friend to the Glen, on 
 the plea of seeing the view, and on these 
 occasions Marion would give them tea 
 under a spreading sycamore before the 
 door. 
 
 A certain Sir Duncan Forbes came amono- 
 others to the castle, and Muriel was too 
 much absorbed in the pleasure of his society 
 to observe that a young Englishman who 
 was also of the party had found his way 
 more than once to the Glen. 
 
 He was handsome and light-hearted, and 
 thought only of the pleasure of the moment
 
 12 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 when, with a few graceful phrases and some 
 genuine praise of her beautiful home and 
 her gentle friend, he made the first step 
 towards awaking Marion's slumbering heart. 
 
 Soon he discovered that hers was a 
 nature such as he had never before known, 
 and his idle admiration changed to a 
 warmer feeling ; so that he exerted all his 
 skill and wit to please her, and succeeded 
 only too well. 
 
 Once and again he joined her where she 
 loitered among the birches by the burnside. 
 The warm sunshine seemed to wrap them 
 round, and visions of a wonderful future 
 began to float before the girl's eyes — visions 
 destined to fade as quickly as they had 
 been born. 
 
 Nothing occurred to disturb her dream- 
 ing until Muriel's intended marriage to 
 Sir Duncan Forbes was announced, and 
 then indeed she laid aside reserve and 
 pride, and made her way to the castle as
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. 13 
 
 often as she could, for a few minutes' chat 
 with her whom she was so soon to lose. 
 Almost before she had realised the impend- 
 ing change in her life, the wedding-day 
 had come, and Muriel was gone. 
 
 Marion was ill at ease that night, and 
 cared little for the ball at which the 
 tenants as well as the gentry of the 
 neighbourhood assembled. 
 
 The young Englishman was there still ; 
 but he, too, was depressed and unlike him- 
 self — nor was it long before Marion knew 
 the reason. 
 
 He was to leave the castle next day, and 
 he must bid her farewell. This he told 
 her in the shadow of a temporary porch, 
 gay with evergreens and flowers, where he 
 led her unobserved by the dancers throng- 
 ing to the gay tumult of the Houlachan. 
 
 ''You can't mean it," gasped the girl, 
 leaning back against the branches for 
 support.
 
 14 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Then her companion spoke out bravely, 
 if too tardily. He did not attempt to 
 defend himself, but craved her forgiveness 
 for having yielded to the sweet temptation 
 of her presence, when he should rather have 
 fled from her. 
 
 Marry her he could not — he could only 
 hope that she would forget him, and that 
 speedily. He tried to hang about her neck 
 a locket from his watch-chain; but she 
 spurned the gift, even while she clung to 
 him in all the agony of her disappointment 
 and dread of loneliness. Fortunately per- 
 haps, there was wounded pride too in her 
 heart, which helped her, after those bitter 
 moments were over, to keep her place 
 through the evening, and smile and dance 
 like the rest. 
 
 She could not send back some beautifully 
 bound volumes w^hich reached her a week 
 later, with no clue to their donor save a 
 small initial on the fly-leaf, that no eye but
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. lo 
 
 her own observed. The thought that she 
 had been remembered brought some com- 
 fort to her aching heart, and by-and-by the 
 healthful discipline of daily duties and 
 household cares wrought upon her, so that 
 she came to regard that short season of 
 love as a wonderful interlude, a beautiful 
 vision, apart from the routine of any pos- 
 sible life. 
 
 Nevertheless the old monotonous exist- 
 ence was often intolerably irksome to her 
 active spirit, and she missed Muriel Camp- 
 bell's frequent visits sorely. 
 
 When, therefore, through the influence 
 of Sir Duncan Forbes and his bride, a 
 certain James Bennett was presented to 
 the little kirk nearest Glen Monach, Marion 
 was interested in him, because he had lately 
 seen and spoken to her friend, whose new 
 home was in the parish of which his father 
 was the minister. 
 
 The young man, on his side, admired the
 
 16 THE minister's SON. 
 
 erect figure and easy gait of this handsome 
 Highland girl as she went out after her 
 father's cows, and wondered that her large 
 grey eyes were always so cold and calm. 
 
 The time came, by-and-by, when they 
 were not cold to him ; and when Marion 
 quitted her home and entered the tiny 
 manse as a wife, she believed that she was 
 giving her heart truly with her hand, for 
 she had ceased to think of that other brief 
 episode in her life, except in so far as each 
 one of us thinks tenderly of a first fancy. 
 Yet it had left its impress on her charac- 
 ter, for it had given her a glimpse of the 
 romance of love. She was content now 
 with James Bennett's quiet wooing ; but 
 in some future day of trouble, her warmer 
 nature might long for a franker affection, 
 and driven back upon itself, might recall 
 that fair dream with regret. 
 
 When Bennett's father died, he received 
 a call from the little congregation of Tilly-
 
 EAELY FRIENDS. 17 
 
 bodle, and with a contented mind took 
 possession of the home of his boyhood. 
 
 His wife, too, was glad, for the Forbes' s 
 estate of Inverallan Hall lay close at hand ; 
 and since her marriage, many a kindly 
 letter and thoughtful gift had proved that 
 Lady Forbes had not forgotten her girlish 
 friendship. 
 
 She and her husband were away on a 
 visit when the Bennetts arrived, but every- 
 thing had been made ready for them by 
 her orders ; and the pots of ferns and 
 flowers, no less than the fresh cream and 
 hot rolls, showed how carefully she had 
 thought over every detail that should make 
 a pleasant welcome in their home. 
 
 The preparations were superintended by 
 Mrs Simpson, the old housekeeper at the 
 Hall, who was not a little surprised at 
 their extent, and was consequently the 
 more curious to see the new-comers. 
 
 She was a stately personage, far more 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 18 THE minister's SON. 
 
 imposing in appearance than her young 
 mistress, and prided herself justly on the 
 possession of many excellent qualities — on 
 none more than on her power of keeping 
 herself and others in their proper places. 
 
 She had known James Bennett's homely 
 parents well, and had been a favoured vis- 
 itor at the manse, where, when the family 
 was away and she had time on her hands, 
 she loved to drink a cup of tea. Old Mrs 
 Bennett had been well pleased to hear of 
 the doings of the gentry at the Hall ; and 
 the minister himself, worthy man, was not 
 averse to a good story or a genial bit of 
 gossip. 
 
 Now Mrs Simpson held, that as things 
 have been, so they should continue to be. 
 She hated change, and suspected evil in 
 every new custom — ^just as she believed 
 that a new sauce must be bad for the 
 stomach, and that the palate that enjoyed 
 it must be in an unhealthy condition.
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. 19 
 
 She took it for granted that the new 
 minister and his wife would be like the 
 old, friendly, quiet folk, not altogether at 
 their ease on the periodic occasions when 
 they dined at the Hall. 
 
 The fact that young Mrs Bennett came 
 from Lady Forbes's neighbourhood, ac- 
 counted to some extent for the prepara- 
 tions made in the manse, but she was 
 quite unaware that any intimacy existed 
 between the two. 
 
 When, therefore, she had allowed a couple 
 of days for " settling down," Mrs Simpson 
 arrayed herself in the silk gown and 
 Paisley shawl that in those days were 
 considered handsome, and walked slowly 
 down to the manse. Mr Bennett received 
 her with kindliness, remembering her well, 
 and introduced her to his wife, who was 
 also perfectly kindly and courteous, and 
 at once offered her tea. But though she 
 stayed and drank one and another cup,
 
 20 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Mrs Simpson was not satisfied with her 
 visit. She could not have told what it 
 was that displeased her, for even she could 
 not say that Mrs Bennett gave herself airs 
 or behaved in any way unfittingly. All 
 she could and did say to her friend the 
 butler was, that she " couldn't make them 
 out, — maybe they were just strange." 
 
 The mystery was explained next day, 
 when Lady Forbes haviug arrived, drove 
 straight from the station to the manse, 
 met and embraced Mrs Bennett half-way 
 up the garden-path, and carried her off at 
 once to lunch at the Hall, " where she's 
 talking away about the pictures, and the 
 china, and gimcracks, and as much at 
 home as my lady herself," quoth the butler, 
 when he came down-stairs. 
 
 Poor Mrs Simpson never got over the 
 shock of this discovery, and with touchy 
 unreasonableness declared that she had 
 been made to disgrace herself, and never
 
 EARLY FRIENDS. 21 
 
 would she enter the manse again. That 
 she, a woman that knew how folk should 
 conduct themselves, should have gone and 
 drunk tea with a friend of her " leddyship's," 
 was a slip she could not forget ; and judg- 
 ing others by herself, she always believed 
 that the ladies must have laughed together 
 over her blunder. To Mrs Bennett she 
 owed an especial grudge; '*'for/' said she, 
 " she might surely hae tauld me she kenned 
 her leddyship sae weel ; " and this omis- 
 sion she never could forgive.
 
 22 
 
 CHAPTEK II 
 
 AULD JAMIE. 
 
 Very pleasant were the relations between 
 the manse and the Hall as time rolled on ; 
 and very truly did Marion, with her happy 
 bairns at her knee, sympathise with the 
 childless wife, whose riches could not com- 
 pensate for the lack of childish voices in 
 her house. 
 
 The weight of a silence that has never 
 been broken is easier to bear, however, than 
 the terrible silence of loss, which fell upon 
 the manse just when the rosy faces were 
 beginning to brighten with intelligence, 
 and father and mother speculated on the
 
 AULB JAMIE. 23 
 
 capacity and probable future of each little 
 learner. 
 
 It was during a wet spring that a low 
 fever broke out in the village; and the 
 minister, in the stifling rooms from which 
 the health - giving air was carefully ex- 
 cluded, spent his strength in his attend- 
 ance on the sick and dying. He took the 
 infection first; and though Lady Forbes 
 carried the two children away at once to 
 the Hall, they sickened and died before 
 their father could leave his room. ■ Deso- 
 lation fell upon the parents ; and when 
 a baby's cry was again heard within the 
 walls, the mother held down, with all 
 her strong will, the passion of love that 
 welled up in her heart — " for," said she, 
 " who knows if he may be spared to me ? " 
 
 He was spared, and grew to be a vigor- 
 ous, bright boy, the last and dearest of her 
 flock ; but the repression of her love became 
 so far habitual, that it was only now and
 
 24 THE minister's SON. 
 
 again that it shone forth in its full force. 
 Ordinarily she was a kind, but not a de- 
 monstrative parent. 
 
 When Eonald Bennett was two years 
 old, Lady Forbes gave birth to a daughter ; 
 and a few nights later a carriage drove up 
 in haste to the manse, and a thundering 
 knock roused the inmates from their slum- 
 bers. Lady Forbes was dying, — would 
 Mrs Bennett come at once — not a moment 
 was to be lost. Marion was at the Hall 
 as rapidly as possible, and was met at the 
 foot of the stairs by the old housekeeper. 
 
 '' You'll not stay long, Mrs Bennett ; Sir 
 Duncan and the doctor are both there,'' she 
 said in a low tone. 
 
 *' I shall do whatever is needful," re- 
 turned Marion, and sped past her, unheed- 
 ing her angry eyes. It was not till all was 
 over that she drove away again ; and for 
 many a night she would wake from her 
 sleep, and hear in fancy the faint voice
 
 AULD JAMIE. 2o 
 
 whispering, " Love my baby, Marion : tell 
 her of me — often." She had given the re- 
 quired promise earnestly; and because of it, 
 and for the sake of her faithful friendship 
 for his wife, Sir Duncan, who had no rela- 
 tive to whom he chose to intrust her, al- 
 lowed his little girl to be continually at 
 the manse as time went on. 
 
 Upon her Marion Bennett lavished freely 
 all the caresses which were sparingly be- 
 stowed on her own boy ; nor did it seem 
 strange to him that it should be so. Had 
 he not been taught from his earliest infancy 
 to treat her as a little queen might have 
 been treated 1 Had she not driven him 
 about, — made him in turn her horse, her 
 dog, her protector when the sullen watch- 
 dog frightened her, and had he not obeyed 
 implicitly her pretty baby tyranny ? Once 
 indeed he had hurt her in his play, and 
 she had cried, whereupon his mother had 
 gathered her lovingly in her arms, saying
 
 26 THE minister's SON. 
 
 gravely to him, '' Eonald, you must never 
 make Muriel cry, for she has no mother to 
 kiss her ; " and the reproof sank deep into 
 his childish heart, so that he shed tears 
 himself at the thought of his own cruelty. 
 
 As he grew older he began to attend the 
 village day-school, and in doing so learnt 
 more than the dominie taught. He was a 
 high-spirited boy, always ready for mischief, 
 and clever enough to make up easily for 
 the time he wasted, so that his position in 
 his classes remained a fair one. His master, 
 therefore, had no ground of complaint ; yet 
 he knew that if mischief of anv sort were 
 brewing, Ronald Bennett would be in the 
 midst of it, and he lived in expectation of 
 some outburst that would entail a serious 
 rebuke. Unhappily, his new associates 
 speedily influenced the boy for the worse : 
 he had plunged from the restraints of a 
 strict home into the comparative liberty of 
 school, and his accent, his manners, his
 
 AULD JAMIE. 27 
 
 very clothes, gave evidence of the change. 
 He would talk the broadest native Doric, 
 especially if Mrs Simpson happened to pass 
 him in the village street. He would wander 
 away on half-holidays, roaming over the 
 hills with companions who cared for neither 
 fences nor keepers, and sometimes brought 
 home eggs that no barn-door fowl had laid. 
 He did not guess that his mother said sternly 
 to herself, as she watched him, that she 
 must arm herself to meet disappointment, 
 if not sorrow, in the future. Only to little 
 Muriel Forbes was the boy as gentle as 
 ever, and the child would call him " Ronny 
 dear," and run to meet him joyously, nor 
 would any temptation induce him to leave 
 her, if she begged him to stay. Once a 
 boy considerably older than he, jeered at 
 him for remaining behind *'wi' yon bit 
 Forbes lassie" when the others set off for 
 a ramble ; but Ronald, with a bound, struck 
 him full on the mouth, so that his lip was
 
 28 THE minister's SON. 
 
 cut open. " Take that ! " he cried, furiously; 
 "and never let me hear a word like that 
 from you again ! " 
 
 Ronald,, like his mother when in anger, 
 had " gotten to his English," and somehow 
 the bully did not care to face him in his 
 wrath. Young as they were, the boys 
 recognised dimly that the name of a tiny 
 girl had fired a chivalrous indignation in 
 the one, as it had prompted a thoughtless 
 insult from the other. 
 
 Unfortunately, Ronald's love for tales of 
 travel and adventure led him to frequent 
 the one cottage in the village which those 
 in authority over him would have thought 
 the most unsuitable. 
 
 Jamie Paterson was a shoemaker by trade, 
 — a clever workman when he chose to exert 
 himself, though his hand was not so steady 
 or his eye so clear as of old. He was a 
 short, broad - shouldered fellow, with un- 
 kempt black hair, and a red nose that be-
 
 AULD JAMIE. 29 
 
 trayed his besetting weakness. No matter 
 at what hour he was seen, a black cutty- 
 pipe was between his teeth, and some of 
 his cronies vowed he slept with it in his 
 mouth, and smoked when others snored. 
 His dark and dingy shop was a rendezvous 
 for all idlers; for Jamie would put aside his 
 work at any moment to enjoy " a crack," 
 and loved nothing better than to recount 
 his experiences " in the colony," as he called 
 Australia, including in the tale the awful mis- 
 fortunes and gigantic losses which had sent 
 him home as poor as when he emigrated. 
 
 His glory as a traveller, however, was 
 somewhat diminished after an occasion when 
 a returned settler, passing through Tilly- 
 bodle, recognised him through the open win- 
 dow, and joined the idlers round his bench. 
 
 Perhaps Jamie did not love rivalry on 
 his own ground, or perhaps he disliked his 
 visitor ; whatever the cause, he treated him 
 cavalierly. The stranger nevertheless main-
 
 30 THE minister's SOX. 
 
 tained his friendly tone, as though inno- 
 cent of any cause of offence ; but when he 
 rose to go, he glanced round the low-roofed 
 cottage and observed — 
 
 " I see you're just the man you were, 
 Jamie — no a bit better aff than when 
 ye ■' 
 
 "Whisht, man, whisht !" exclaimed Jamie, 
 uneasily; but the listeners, scenting a secret, 
 pressed the stranger to speak and tell them 
 what he knew. 
 
 " Oh, it's no mickle. Jamie here says 
 the colony's the land o' true leeberty ; but 
 Fm thinkin' he didna find it sae, that's a'," 
 replied he, laughing. 
 
 " Go on, go on," — '^ I aye had my doobts 
 aboot him," cried one and another. 
 
 *' Weel, ye see, oot yonder folk dinna 
 Stan' at the street-corners like ye do here — 
 they've owre mickle on hand ; and if a lad's 
 seen idlin', the police speir at him whaur he's 
 frae and what's his business. Our freend
 
 AULD JAMIE. 31 
 
 Jamie here was aye fond o' a drap, and he 
 gaed through the streets o' our bit toun ae 
 while owre aften, and — dinna rin, Jamie, 
 man — and the police jist gruppit him, and 
 gied him saxty days, — that's hoo he cam 
 hame wf a toom purse, for he wadna bide 
 aifter; he said he'd gang hame to auld Scot- 
 land, whaur a man can dauner aboot as 
 lang's he likes." 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted this statement, 
 and for some days, if the shoemaker was 
 seen at his usual lounging-places, he was 
 met with sly allusions and broad jests. 
 
 Nevertheless the effect of the stranger's 
 visit soon wore off. After all, supposing 
 Jamie had been in jail, nobody else in Tilly- 
 bodle had travelled so far or could while 
 away an hour so pleasantly. Even a jail 
 may confer a dignity on its prisoner, in 
 rustic eyes, if it is sufficiently far off ! 
 Jamie therefore resumed his sway over the 
 village, though on less autocratic terms
 
 32 THE minister's SON. 
 
 than heretofore, since a hint as to the cause 
 of his misfortunes would always moderate 
 his humours. 
 
 He was a great power in the country-side, 
 as laird and minister knew well. His free- 
 thinking speeches and dry wit made him 
 a favourite, and wives and mothers sighed 
 when they heard their men-folk say of an 
 afternoon, " Let's gang up to Jamie's for a 
 wee while," for they knew that the eflfect on 
 the domestic atmosphere would be v/hat 
 Englishwomen call " up-setting." 
 
 '' When my man comes hame, he thinks 
 he kens hoo a' the warld suld be managed, 
 and wad lay doon the law to the Queen 
 hersel ; but I aye tell him he canna man- 
 age his ain tongue, for he flytes at me and 
 misca's the bairns maist awfu' ! it's real 
 ano^ersome !" exclaimed one of these much- 
 enduring matrons. 
 
 " Weel, weel, woman, ye maun jist mak' 
 the best o't : them that's got a man in the
 
 AULD JAMIE. 33 
 
 hoose maun aye be pittin' up with ae thing 
 or anither/' replied another, of more resigned 
 character. 
 
 " I dinna see the sense o' that ava. What 
 for suld a man no be ceevil as weel's a 
 woman 1 My man was ceevil eneuch whan 
 he was young." 
 
 " Losh, woman, it's the way they're made I 
 They're helpless bodies aboot a hoose, and 
 they ken that weel eneuch ; sae it's nae wun- 
 ner they're ceevil whan they re coortin' a 
 lass. But it's anither tale they tell whan 
 ye're marrit to them. We a' ken that, and 
 what's the use o' grumlin' ? " 
 
 " Weel, if I'd my way, Jamie Paterson 
 wad get leave to quit." 
 
 " And what guid wad that dae ? If it 
 wasna him it wad be anither, and care aye 
 comes o' clashes. Keep a quiet sough, lass. 
 Jamie's no sae bad as ye think," replied the 
 goodwife, turning in at her own door. 
 
 She was quite right in her estimate of 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 THE minister's SON. 
 
 the worthy with whom Eon aid Bennett held 
 many a stolen interview. To Jamie's credit 
 be it said, he did the boy less harm than 
 might have been expected, for there was 
 something in the look of the frank young 
 eyes that often checked a foul story on 
 his lips. 
 
 On a certain afternoon, when his mother 
 had again rebuked Eonald for his choice of 
 books, he stole out and round to the patch 
 of ground — it could not be called a garden 
 — behind the shoemaker's cottage. 
 
 Jamie was leaning on the low wall of his 
 pigsty, his shirt open at the throat, his 
 heavy shoes unlaced, his pipe between his 
 teeth, his untidy and ''throughither" figure 
 suiting well with the dilapidated pigsty, 
 the black and weedy ground, where old 
 kail -runts and sodden potato -shaws gave 
 evidence of thriftless waste. 
 
 '' How's the pig, Jamie ? " inquired Eon- 
 ald, jumping the broken fence and coming up.
 
 AULD JAMIE. oo 
 
 '•'Xo weel," replied the man, witliout 
 moving ; and indesd, how could it do well, 
 poor beast, living, as it did, in a perpetual 
 sea of mud ? Pigs are by nature cleaner 
 than many of their masters. 
 
 " No weel/' he repeated ; " it's an eldritch 
 brute. "Wad ye believe it ! it's capseezed its 
 trough yonder, and shoved it up forenent 
 the wa' ; and yonder it was, stannin' on the 
 tap o't, routin doun thae tiles frae aff the 
 roof — it's deevilitch ! " 
 
 " What an awful-like beast!" said Eonald, 
 laughing at the speaker's serious counte- 
 nance ; but Jamie did not smile. 
 
 " Ye ken thae folk that believe in trans- 
 migration o' souls — some kind o' Indians, are 
 they no ? " 
 
 " Ay — Brahmins," replied Eonald, wisely. 
 
 " Weel, yon's the kind o' animal wad suit 
 my soul, I'm thinkin' : it's jist as restless 
 as me, and as ne'er-do-weel," said Jamie 
 gravely, knocking the ashes out of his pipe,
 
 36 THE minister's son. 
 
 and turning back to the cottage. Some 
 gleam of regret had touched him, as Eonald 
 saw with surprise ; but it passed as quickly 
 as it came, and, perhaps all the more readily 
 because of it, Jamie dropped in to the Eob 
 Roy that night and had a drop as usual. 
 Happily the good influence was yet on 
 him while Eonald broached the subject of 
 his troubles. 
 
 ''Jamie, they're aye tellin' me at home 
 that I maun be a minister, and I dinna 
 like it." 
 
 '' What for no?" said the shoemaker, peer- 
 ing at him from below his shaggy eyebrows. 
 
 '' What for no ? — well, would ye like it 
 yersel, Jamie 1 " 
 
 " Dinna even yersel wi' me, laddie," re- 
 plied Paterson, sternly. 
 
 '' I know you're clever, and Fm not," 
 said Eonald humbly, and quite mistaking 
 the other's meaning; "and it's partly be- 
 cause I'm no clever enough that I can't
 
 AULD JAMIE. 37 
 
 thole it." Ronald's talk was a curious mix- 
 ture of English and Lowland Scotch. 
 
 '' Humph ! ye'll hae as mickle wit in your 
 brain-pan as mony a chiel that wags his 
 heid in a poopit," quoth Jamie. 
 
 " But I tell ye I don't want to wag my 
 my heid in a poopit, as ye call it. I want 
 to travel and see life a bit," replied the 
 boy. 
 
 His shrewd companion detected the note 
 of affectation in his manner. 
 
 *' See life, said ye? — see life indeed! 
 IVe seen life, bairn, mair nor ye'll ever get 
 a sicht o', and ye ken weel eneuch what's 
 come o't. D'ye think I dinna ken, when 
 a the folk come to listen to auld Jamie's 
 clashes, that there's no ae decent lad amang 
 them ? No ane o' them will hae a plack to 
 lay by when they're getting auld. They're 
 grand at haverin' wi' a body like me, but 
 havers winna deed nor feed ye. Ay, ye 
 may glower. It's no aften ye catch me
 
 38 THE minister's SON. 
 
 speakin' this way ; but when a bairn like 
 you ettles at seein' life, it gars me tak' a 
 thocht. Gang awa' to the colony — it's a 
 gran' place for folk that keep frae drink — 
 keep yer sheep or yer cattle, and mak' yer 
 siller like yon lad that cam hame to see 
 Jamie Paterson as fuschionless an auld fule 
 as he was thretty years sinsyne, but dinna 
 tell me ye want to see life. Yer mither had 
 better pit the mools abune ye beside the 
 ither bairns in the kirkyaird. Gang yer 
 ways hame, laddie ; I'm for nae mair o' ye 
 the noo," said Paterson vehemently, strid- 
 ing into the back room, where, as he threw 
 himself on a rickety chair, he exclaimed, 
 '' Ijosh me, it's the pig that's dune it ! "
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BREAKING INTO HARNESS. 
 
 Little Muriel passed a part of each year 
 with her father's mother and maiden sister, 
 and the latter was not altogether pleased 
 with her niece's continual reference to 
 Eonald Bennett, and thought it her duty 
 to write to Sir Duncan on the subject. 
 Her letter was characteristically brief and 
 to the point : — 
 
 '' My dear Duncan," she began, " are you 
 aware that Muriel is constantly with the 
 minister's son at the manse, and even else- 
 where ? I do not think that he can be a 
 fitting companion for her. Mamma was sur-
 
 40 THE minister's SON. 
 
 prised and grieved to find that she actually 
 was glad to go away from us in order to 
 see him again. I think it will indeed be 
 well that I should keep house for you, as 
 was proposed, so as to look after the poor 
 child. — Your affectionate sister, 
 
 "Alicia Forbes. 
 
 " P.S. — Of course I know your poor wife 
 had a romantic friendship for Mrs Bennett, 
 but there is no reason that it should go on 
 to another generation." 
 
 Sir Duncan's reply to this note was more 
 clear-sighted than judicious ; but he was a 
 man who carried no weapons with which to 
 defend himself against a persistent woman : 
 
 "My dear Alicia, — I suppose in the 
 eyes of some women any feminine creature, 
 be she eight years old or eighty, is capable 
 of flirtation. The belief argues the posses-
 
 BEEAKING IXTO HARNESS. 41 
 
 sion of knowledge founded on experience. 
 Don't be angry witli me ; I really cannot 
 answer you otherwise when you take ex- 
 ception to the companionship of a couple of 
 children. No wonder Muriel likes to re- 
 turn. My mother s quiet house is depress- 
 ing for so young a child, and Ronald is a 
 kind and trusty playmate. I myself have 
 a great liking and respect for his mother. 
 
 '' As I told you before, you are welcome 
 to come here whenever you choose ; but 
 understand, I will have nothing done that 
 can in any way wound or annoy Mrs Ben- 
 nett. — Your affectionate brother, 
 
 " Duncan Forbes.'' 
 
 Miss Forbes read this reply twice care- 
 fully, and then locked it up in her desk for 
 future reference. 
 
 " Poor dear Duncan," she thought, " he is 
 no wiser than the rest of his sex. Could any 
 one but a man have written such a note !
 
 42 THE MINISTEe's SON. 
 
 Does he suppose I mean to quarrel with 
 Mrs Bennett 1 On the contrary, I shall 
 be most friendly towards her. I must, of 
 course, get a governess for the child, and it 
 will go hard if she and I together cannot 
 quietly counteract the manse influence. I 
 suspect, too, that I have an ally already at 
 work in the person of worthy Mrs Simpson. 
 She has more feeling for the dignity of the 
 family than Duncan, who is almost as in- 
 fatuated about those people as his wife 
 was." 
 
 Poor Mrs Simpson little knew how com- 
 pletely her antipathy to the Bennetts had 
 been betrayed to the ladies of the manse and 
 Inverallan, — not, as she imagined, by the 
 talk and laughter which must have followed 
 on her blundering visit, but by turns of 
 phrase and tones of her own voice, which 
 expressed volumes. Neither Lady Forbes 
 nor Mrs Bennett ever dreamt of discussing 
 her, yet each knew of her dislike, and now
 
 BREAKIXG IXTO HAEXESS. 43 
 
 Miss Forbes showed herself equally clear- 
 sighted. 
 
 When, after the death of his wife, Sir 
 Duncan frequently consulted Mrs Bennett 
 rather than Mrs Simpson on trifles that 
 concerned the baby, and even allowed the 
 child to remain for some weeks at the 
 manse, he added fuel to the fire of the 
 housekeeper's wrath ; and it would hardly 
 be accusing her unjustly to say that she 
 rejoiced to hear in after-days of Konald's 
 escapades. It seemed as if, after years of 
 patient waiting, she would be able at last 
 to exclaim, " I tell't you sae, — I tell't ye 
 nae guid cu'd come o' thae folk." 
 
 No one was more conscious of her enmity 
 than Ronald himself; and, as has been said, 
 he lost no opportunity of provoking it, not 
 being as yet aware that it is often wisest 
 to conciliate a foe, especially if that foe be 
 a woman. Yet what harm could an old 
 woman like Mrs Simpson do to a boy like
 
 44 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 him ? Her angry glances and air of dignity 
 amused him, and, boy-like, he let her see 
 his laughter. No wonder that she thought 
 him rude, and unfit to associate with the 
 laird's bairn : she could not know that his 
 boisterous fun was never seen when Muriel 
 was by. 
 
 Little Muriel's education had as yet been 
 of a somewhat haphazard description : les- 
 sons, during her visit to her aunt, had been 
 a fruitful source of discord ; and from the 
 frank account she gave of her own behaviour, 
 Mrs Bennett could easily perceive that Miss 
 Forbes must have imagined her to be far 
 more ignorant than she really was. 
 
 ''It is very wrong of you, bairnie," she 
 would say : '' you should not vex your aunt: 
 and besides, you will make her think that 
 I have taught you very badly. She knows 
 that you come every day to me for les- 
 sons, so she will blame me for your igno- 
 rance."
 
 BREAKING INTO HARNESS. 45 
 
 " Oh, dear mamsie, I never meant that ! 
 Oh, if I had thought of that, I would have 
 been so good ! " 
 
 *' You see, if you are naughty you do 
 more harm than you know of, bairnie. Now 
 don't talk any more, but learn your history, 
 like a douce wee woman." 
 
 The little face would turn resolutely to 
 the book after this appeal, and the lesson, 
 which no argument of aunt Alicia's could 
 extort from the child, would be said with 
 eager interest to " mamsie." 
 
 These two, in fact, understood each other 
 perfectly; and the child's voice was never 
 so sweet as in uttering the pet name her 
 baby lips had invented, nor were Mrs Ben- 
 nett's grey eyes ever so tender as when 
 she looked fondly in those of her dead 
 friend's daughter. Her very tone was softer 
 in addressing her ; and it is impossible to 
 put on paper that pathetic inflection, that 
 quaint combination of English words and
 
 46 THE minister's SON. 
 
 refined Highland accent, which, when once 
 heard, can never be forgotten. 
 
 Her studies over, a maid arrived daily to 
 fetch Muriel ; but it was a bright morning 
 for her if Eonald came straight back from 
 school and would play with her for half an 
 hour before she went home. 
 
 It was on the day when a second letter 
 had arrived from Miss Forbes for Sir Dun- 
 can, that Eonald, unconscious of the opposi- 
 tion in store for him, met the child just as 
 she had passed the village school. 
 
 " Oh, Konny, do come to the fall with 
 me ! '* cried she, running up to him ; and 
 nothing loath, he agreed. 
 
 The waterfall in question was the chil- 
 dren's favourite haunt : a little burn foamed 
 over a steep rock and formed at its base 
 a good-sized pool, deep enough to be fas- 
 cinating without being actually dangerous. 
 Two bent and gnarled rowans almost met 
 across the pool, and their branches made
 
 BREAKIXG IXTO HARNESS. 47 
 
 delightful seats, all the more charming be- 
 cause the brown water was below them. 
 A few yards lower down the burn was 
 spanned by a small but ancient bridge, over 
 whose steep arch a footj)ath led from the 
 village to the Hall. 
 
 Muriel's maid was so accustomed to the 
 children's play that she paid little heed to 
 them, and amused herself by gatheringblack- 
 berries while they scrambled about the pool. 
 
 The child's great delight was to slide out 
 as far as she dared on the rowan-branch ; 
 while Konald, wading below, steadied her 
 on her perch. On this particular morning, 
 either she was more adventurous than usual, 
 or less careful in her hold ; and just as Mrs 
 Simpson chanced to appear on the bridge, 
 Muriel slipped, and, uttering a shriek, fell, 
 dragging Konald with her. Not much harm 
 ensued ; for the boy quickly recovered his 
 balance, and lifted Muriel, who was a slight 
 child, on to the nearest rock in a moment,
 
 48 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 and thence to tlie bank, before the nurse 
 and Mrs Simpson reached the spot. 
 
 " Glide guide us, Miss Muriel, ye micht 
 hae been drooned ! What laddie's yon 
 that's wi' ye ? " cried Mrs Simpson, who 
 knew him perfectly well, even before he 
 turned to her with a mock profound bow. 
 
 " So it's Mrs Bennett's bairn. My certie, 
 if that's the gait you guide Miss Muriel, the 
 laird will let ye hear o't ! What a place 
 to pit a young leddy in ! Ye ought to be 
 ashamed o' yoursel," cried the housekeeper, 
 really frightened, but also secretly pleased 
 at this chance of rebuking the boy she dis- 
 liked. " As for you," she continued, turn- 
 ing to the maid, " I'll just let the laird ken 
 that you were awa' pu'ing berries when you 
 should have been bringing the young leddy 
 hame, instead of leaving her daunderin' 
 here wi' yon ill-mannered laddie Eonald 
 Bennett." 
 
 During this tirade Muriel had remained
 
 BREAKING IXTO HAEXESS. 49 
 
 Standing, with bewildered eyes scanning the 
 three faces beside her ; now she asserted 
 herself unexpectedly. 
 
 " Mrs Simpson, I'm quite sure if papa 
 were here you would not speak so to Eonny, 
 and I shall tell him so. I'm not a bit hurt, 
 and very little wet, only my frock, just 
 because Eonny picked me up so quick. If 
 papa chooses me to play with him, you can 
 have nothing to say against it." 
 
 If a thunderbolt had fallen at the house- 
 keeper's feet she could not have been more 
 surprised, and she remained speechless, 
 while Muriel begged Eonald to come up 
 with her at once and see her father. Eonald, 
 however, refused. " I've got nothing to say 
 to him ; and besides, I'm going home," he 
 replied, gently ; then with a change of voice 
 and expression that completed poor Muriel's 
 astonishment, he turned to Mrs Simpson. 
 " I'll wuss ye gude day," said he, in a tone 
 that sounded like mimicry of her own; 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE minister's SON. 
 
 and with a laugh and a leap, he was up the 
 bank and away in a moment. 
 
 Before an hour was over, Sir Duncan 
 heard from his daughter and his house- 
 keeper two very different accounts of the 
 morning's adventure; and though he quietly 
 and decidedly took the children's part, he 
 was conscious of a faint doubt, a suspicion, 
 that there might be some cause for his 
 sister's remarks. He would at least inquire : 
 perhaps Eonald Bennett was not as satis- 
 factory a boy as his mother's son ought to 
 have been. 
 
 The very next day he strolled down to 
 the manse, saying that he would bring Miss 
 Muriel home himself. He timed his arrival 
 so as to pass the school just as it " scaled ; " 
 and he observed that among the noisiest 
 boys who burst out of its doors was Bennett, 
 who, the moment he caught sight of Sir 
 Duncan's tall, spare figure, seemed bent on 
 shouting and pushing more violently than
 
 BREAKING IXTO HARXESS. 51 
 
 before. His hair was rough, his waistcoat 
 half buttoned, his tie awry, and certainly 
 he looked a strange companion for the 
 dainty little lady from the Hall. 
 
 Sir Duncan, however, went up to him 
 and held out his hand. " My boy,'' said he, 
 in his pleasant voice, *' I have to thank you 
 heartily for saving Muriel from a nasty fall 
 yesterday : she told me how quick you were. 
 It was a mercy you were with her." 
 
 Eonald coloured to his temj)les as he 
 looked straight in Sir Duncan's face. " Per- 
 haps I shouldn't have let her go so far out, 
 Sir Duncan ; but she liked it, and I didn't 
 think there was any fear of her falling. 
 You might be angry Avith me, I think, iu- 
 stead of thanking me." 
 
 Sir Duncan smiled. ''Xo, indeed; I could 
 hardly expect you to be wiser than your 
 years. If any one was to blame, it was the 
 maid. I'm going on to the manse for 
 Muriel now, — are you coming ? "
 
 52 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Duncan." 
 
 " Come along, then. I am going to tell 
 your mother that Miss Forbes is coming to 
 live at the Hall. Who is that tall boy on the 
 other side there ? Is he a friend of yours ? " 
 
 '' Tom Paterson," replied Konald, rather 
 shyly, not replying to the last question. 
 Tom was one of the most incorrigible boys 
 in the village ; and just now, in passing, he 
 had called out roughly to Eonald, who felt 
 annoyed, without clearly knowing why. 
 
 *' Paterson, the brother of that poor fellow 
 that has ruined himself with drink ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 *' Ah, the boy looks a rough fellow too. 
 It is a great pity ; that whole family has 
 gone wrong for want of spirit enough to go 
 right," said Sir Duncan, with a glance at 
 the drooping head beside him. He sus- 
 pected that he was delivering a home-thrust, 
 and was careful to speak, not as a critic, 
 but as one friend to another. *' How's your
 
 BKEAKIXG INTO HARNESS. 53 
 
 mother, Konalcl % has she had any more of 
 her bad colds ? " he continued. 
 
 The boy looked up brightly, and before 
 the two had reached the manse, Sir Dun- 
 can had obtained an insight into points of 
 Eonald's character that neither the quiet, 
 reserved minister, nor even Mrs Bennett 
 herself, had been able to gain. 
 
 ''The lad's a gentleman," thought Sir 
 Duncan, as he reached the door, '' but he 
 ought to be out of that school. Tom Pater- 
 son's no companion for him. I can quite 
 imagine that Mrs Simpson doesn't like him." 
 
 Muriel's lessons were over, but she gladly 
 ran off with Eonald till her father should be 
 ready ; and Sir Duncan noticed the gentle, 
 protecting way in which he spoke to her. 
 Was Miss Forbes right, after all, in thinking 
 that the children should not be so much 
 together ? 
 
 *' How old is Eonald, Mrs Bennett ? " he 
 inquired.
 
 54 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " Thirteen, Sir Duncan," she replied, 
 wondering at the question, till she observed 
 the direction of her companion's eyes. 
 
 " Too old to be at a mere village school, 
 is he not '? " 
 
 " Perhaps; but his father supplements the 
 teaching, and I see no reason for parting 
 with him till he goes to Edinburgh." 
 
 " Has he settled on his profession yet ? " 
 
 *'You know that his father has settled 
 on one for him ; he will be a minister." 
 
 "Are you really keeping to that inten- 
 tion'?" exclaimed Sir Duncan, looking up in 
 surprise. " It is long now since we have 
 spoken of it." 
 
 " Why not ? There's many a good, quiet 
 man has been full of life and spirit as a 
 boy. His father's heart is set upon it, and 
 — I couldn't spare him to anything else," 
 she added, sharply. 
 
 *'I don't wonder at your thinking you 
 could not, but I confess Ronald does not
 
 BREAKIXG INTO HAEXESS. 55 
 
 look to me as though he were cut out for 
 the ministrv. HoAvever, I did not come 
 to talk of him, but, as usual, of myself,'' 
 said Sir Duncan, smiling. " My sister in- 
 tends taking up her abode for a while at 
 the Hall." 
 
 "Indeed! that will be a great change 
 for you — and Muriel," said Mrs Bennett, 
 visibly startled. 
 
 '' It will. The fact is, Alicia has talked 
 my mother into thinking that Muriel re- 
 quires more constant supervision than I 
 can give, or you either, as you are not in 
 the house with her ; and I daresay there is 
 some truth in what they say. Alicia insists 
 on a governess for the child." 
 
 "■ Miss Forbes is right. Sir Duncan ; and 
 indeed I was thinking of proposing some- 
 thing of the kind myself." 
 
 '' Were you ? That is a relief to my 
 mind, for I feared you would dislike the 
 plan as much as I do."
 
 56 THE MINISTEe's SON. 
 
 "So I do ; but I think it right, for all 
 that. Muriel is too much with servants, 
 and wants more and better teaching than 
 mine. But the light will be gone out of 
 my day when I do not see her 1 " 
 
 "But you will see her constantly, Mrs 
 Bennett." 
 
 " Not if Miss Forbes is at the Hall. I 
 have been more grateful to you than I can 
 tell you, for letting me see so much of the 
 bairn— ^er bairn; but I knew a parting 
 must come some day, and perhaps it is as 
 well that it should come suddenly. Miss 
 Forbes dislikes me, Sir Duncan — well, 
 almost as much as your housekeeper does,'' 
 replied Mrs Bennett, with a twinkle in her 
 grey eyes. 
 
 "Jealousy in both cases, I think, isn't it ? 
 Well, you and I are old enough friends to 
 speak frankly to each other. I am very 
 glad you think I am being made to act 
 wisely, and I shall trust to your telling
 
 BEEAKIXG IXTO HARNESS. 57 
 
 me if you see any signs of Muriel being 
 unhappy. She will confide her troubles 
 to you." 
 
 '' I should speak if I thought it absolutely 
 needful, Sir Duncan, but not otherwise. 
 The bairn must learn to fit her place ; but 
 it will be a hard lesson for her, poor lamb ! 
 When does Miss Forbes come ? '' 
 
 "Early next week, I fancy," replied Sir 
 Duncan, so ruefully that Mrs Bennett 
 lausfhed. 
 
 "You must school yourself, or you 11 
 never school Muriel," she said, and Sir 
 Duncan laughed too. It was no secret that 
 he dreaded his sister's imperious ways, and 
 indeed during his whole life he had yielded 
 to her, except when she had once attempt- 
 ed to tyrannise over his wife; it was on 
 that occasion that she had found it best 
 to leave the Hall, and she had thereafter 
 invariably spoken of her brother as "poor 
 dear Duncan," so that strangers would have
 
 58 THE minister's SON. 
 
 imagined liim to be a miserably henpecked 
 husband. 
 
 The children accepted the impending 
 change in their lives characteristically. 
 Muriel shed passionate tears, and clung 
 to mamsie as though her heart would break; 
 yet, after a long talk with her, went home 
 full of good resolves, which were instantly 
 put to the proof. 
 
 " You'll no be at the manse sae often 
 noo. Miss Muriel," said Mrs Simpson ; " an' * 
 maybe Sir Duncan will entertain mair folk 
 when there's a leddy in the hoose. You'll 
 sune see what they think o' an ill-mannered 
 callant like Eonald Bennett." 
 
 '' I don't care what anybody thinks," said 
 Muriel, stamping her little foot. 
 
 '' Vera weel, missie : your aunt'll no think 
 mickle o' what you've learnt frae Mrs Ben- 
 nett, I warrant ye, when she hears ye talk 
 like that." 
 
 '* But Mrs Bennett always blames me
 
 BEEAKIXG IXTO HARNESS. 59 
 
 when Fm cross, and I'll tell aunt Alicia so. 
 I must try to be good, because Mrs Bennett 
 says I ought," replied Muriel, so tearfully 
 that Mrs Simpson for a moment repented 
 that she had teased her, and tried to soothe 
 her with the promise of a cake, which 
 Muriel accepted politely, and cared for but 
 little. 
 
 Eonald heard of the advent of Miss 
 Forbes and the governess with dismay and 
 dislike. His boyish independence resented 
 fiercely the slightest hint which implied an 
 assertion of superiority in the person who 
 uttered it. Miss Forbes had spoken to him 
 two or three times in his life, and on each 
 occasion his dislike of her had deepened, for 
 she addressed him as though he belonged to 
 a different world. No doubt the governess 
 would be a person of the same sort ; and 
 Eonald felt that, even in order to see Muriel, 
 he could hardly endure to face her aunt. 
 Moreover, he knew that he would miss
 
 60 THE minister's SON. 
 
 the child terribly ; and therefore, with the 
 strange reserve that was natural to him, 
 he scarcely allowed a word of regret to 
 escape him respecting the abandonment 
 of her daily visits. 
 
 Perhaps but for Sir Duncan's judicious 
 remarks he might have thrown himself 
 more completely into Tom Paterson's hands ; 
 but he could not forget either the strange 
 warning that Jamie had given him when 
 he spoke of seeing life, nor yet Sir Duncan's 
 graphic phrase, '^ Gone wrong for want of 
 spirit to go right." He would not like to 
 play so mean a part as that himself, and 
 he more than once kept out of a scrape in 
 order to satisfy himself that he was not 
 choosing mischief from want of courage to 
 say nay to his companions. 
 
 Does it seem unnatural that a boy of 
 thirteen should have paused thus to think 
 and weigh his actions ? Not if he has in 
 him enough of the Highland blood to ren-
 
 BREAKING IXTO HARNESS. 61 
 
 cier him at once dreamy and rash, thought- 
 ful and impetuous ; and if, as in Eonald's 
 case, it is qualified by a sober. Lowland 
 strain, the result is sure to be a character 
 full of perplexing contradictions.
 
 62 
 
 CHAPTEK IV. 
 
 MISS FORBES. 
 
 Very soon after Miss Forbes's arrival, the 
 Bennetts were asked to the Hall to lun- 
 cheon, instead of to dinner, in order that 
 Ronald might be of the party; and Sir 
 Duncan made a point of telling the gover- 
 ness how much he owed to Mrs Bennett 
 for her care and instruction of his little 
 girl. 
 
 He might have spared himself the trouble. 
 Miss Trimmer had been taught her part, and 
 while she listened with outward assent to 
 his statement, her conclusions were other 
 than he had intended. Yet she, like his 
 sister, was perfectly polite to the Bennetts
 
 MISS FOEBES. 63 
 
 when they came, speaking with that pol- 
 ished tone which may easily deceive a man, 
 but which, to a woman's ear, resembles thin 
 ice spread over deep waters, for she knows 
 that it conceals somethino: — if not actual 
 ill-will, at least some mental reservation or 
 some hidden scheme. 
 
 Mrs Bennett detected it at once, and so 
 in part did her son, whose anxiety to appear 
 at his ease made him nervous and awkward. 
 Before luncheon was over, he had upset a 
 flower-glass that stood before his plate ; and 
 Miss Forbes's voice, as she desired the ser- 
 vant to remove it, increased his confusion. 
 Muriel, from the opposite side of the table, 
 looked at him, half amused, half sympathis- 
 ing, and even her look wounded him. It 
 seemed as though Sir Duncan only was 
 thoroughly frank and pleasant. 
 
 The interminable luncheon over, Ronald 
 went off with Muriel to the long picture- 
 gallery, where hung portraits of ancestors.
 
 64 THE minister's SON. 
 
 soldiers, courtiers, judge and laird, rosy 
 beauty and grey-liaired grandmother. 
 
 '' I like this one best," said Muriel, run- 
 ning up to a full-length of a gentleman in 
 Highland dress ; " he gave up everything, 
 even his silver plate, to the Prince, and 
 was beheaded after Culloden — 
 
 ' Like a brave old Scottish cavalier, 
 All of the olclen time.' 
 
 You know that song, don't you, Ronald ? " 
 
 " Of course I do. And so you like sol- 
 diers best, Muriel?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! they must be so brave and 
 devoted, ready always to die for their coun- 
 try," said she, with childish enthusiasm. 
 
 " rd like to be a soldier/' said Eonald, in 
 a whisper. He had never put his thought 
 into words before. 
 
 '' You ! But you're to be a minister, 
 Ronny ; mamsie said so," exclaimed Muriel. 
 
 '' Oh yes, I know. Don't say I spoke of 
 anything else ; I just wished it, you know."
 
 MISS FORBES. 65 
 
 *^Just as I wish I were a fairy or a 
 princess. I know what you mean, and it 
 wouldn't do to tell things like that ; we 
 should be laughed at," replied Muriel, se- 
 riously. 
 
 Meanwhile Sir Duncan had taken the op- 
 portunity of saying a word to the minister. 
 
 " Eonald grows a fine, strong lad, doesn't 
 he ? " he beo^an, — and the father assented 
 with evident pride. 
 
 " He would do well in some active life, — 
 the army, for example." 
 
 " The army ! Do you think I would let 
 a son of mine follow that godless profes- 
 sion ? No, no ; besides, Eonald came as a 
 blessing to us, after our troubles, and I 
 vowed him to the service of the Lord." 
 
 '' That may be hard upon him if he has 
 tastes of another sort," said Sir Duncan. 
 
 " A man can school his tastes, Sir Dun- 
 can ; and besides, when a boy has had one 
 object held steadily before him, he grows 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 THE minister's SON. 
 
 up to it, as it were. Ronald is well on with 
 his studies, and I think of sending him to 
 the Academy at Dollar for a year or two." 
 " An excellent plan, I should say," replied 
 Sir Duncan, who knew the impracticable 
 nature of the man with whom he had to 
 deal, and that it would be worse than use- 
 less to press the argument, however much 
 he might pity the boy. 
 
 When the guests had taken their depart- 
 ure, and Sir Duncan had retired to his 
 library, Miss Trimmer improved the occa- 
 sion for Muriel's benefit. 
 
 " Mrs Bennett's accent is rather musical, 
 is it not, although so very Scotch ? " 
 
 "Yes, I always said she spoke rather 
 prettily, — far better than her husband, who 
 has the thorough Edinburgh accent. What 
 do you think of the boyV said Miss 
 Forbes. 
 
 " He is a wonderfully good specimen for 
 a country boy — one may say, a villager."
 
 MISS FORBES. 67 
 
 " Yes, not so bad as lie miglit have been. 
 Poor fellow, how wretchedly nervous he 
 was ! " 
 
 " "Was he not ? But then, what else can 
 one expect ? " 
 
 " Exactly. Muriel, get your work, child." 
 
 Now Muriel had heard every word of this 
 dialogue ; at first with satisfaction, for they 
 were praising her dear mamsie — afterwards 
 with a mixture of surprise and vexation. 
 AYas Eonald really so very awkward ? He 
 certainly did get very red when he upset 
 the flower-glass, and she couldn't think 
 how he had done it ; but still, Miss Trim- 
 mer needn't have spoken in that disagree- 
 able way about it ; and she fetched her 
 work, and sat down to it with the least 
 little indication of sulkiness, not unnoticed 
 by the two ladies. 
 
 Forced to exert herself, lest she should 
 discredit mamsie's teaching, she made rapid 
 strides in her studies, and Miss Trimmer
 
 68 THE minister's SON. 
 
 was obliged to do justice to her predeces- 
 sor's care. Tlie more progress, however, 
 the pupil made, the less time there was 
 for visiting the manse ; and as Mrs Bennett 
 had prophesied, the separation between her 
 and her little pupil became almost com- 
 plete. Eonald, too, was gone — sent, sorely 
 against his mother's will, to Dollar ; and the 
 manse was dull and lonely, and mamsie 
 would sit idly gazing at the distant hills, 
 and dream of the sound of the wind in the 
 firs, and the whisper of the burns among 
 the rushes by her old home. Once and 
 again Sir Duncan came to ask if she 
 thouo^ht that Muriel was doinsr well, and 
 each time she gave him a satisfactory reply. 
 " I told ye the bairn must learn to fit 
 her place, and she's learning quickly. Do 
 you not see the bit air she has, and the 
 way she speaks ? She's had her fights 
 and her tears now and then ; but she's a 
 wiselike bairn, and when she sees she must
 
 MISS FOEBES. 69 
 
 go a road, she'll go willingly enough," 
 said mamsie, using homelier phrases, now 
 that she was no longer teaching the " wee 
 woman." 
 
 "Well, I suppose for once Alicia has 
 been wise ; she certainly seems to have 
 been kind, which is the main point." 
 
 *'Yes," said Mrs Bennett, wondering if 
 the man beside her was incapable of sus- 
 pecting that kindness had been part of 
 Miss Forbes's plan. She herself, however, 
 had not guessed at its extent. With a 
 mother's prescience she had divined that 
 Muriel's aunt wished to separate her from 
 the companionship of a boy in Ronald's 
 position, and she was just enough to admit 
 that the wish was a wise one ; but she 
 did not know that Alicia Forbes was a 
 disappointed woman. A brilliant marriage 
 which she had planned for herself had been 
 broken off in consequence of her own hasty 
 pride. Attendance on an invalid father
 
 70 THE minister's SON. 
 
 had prevented her from rising as she as- 
 pired to do in the gay world, and by her 
 injudicious behaviour to Lady Forbes she 
 had cut herself off from the society in her 
 brother's house. 
 
 This last failure had caused her to take 
 her conduct into serious consideration ; and 
 she had so far profited by her repeated 
 lessons, that she was prepared now to sac- 
 rifice her will to the attainment of her 
 ends. Sir Duncan's estates were unen- 
 tailed, and Muriel would be an heiress as 
 well as a beautiful girl ; and if her aunt 
 were to train her well, bring her out, and 
 enable her to make a good match, consider- 
 able credit would be hers, and not a little 
 enjoyment could be taken by the way. 
 
 This, then, was the motive that brought 
 her to the Hall, and enabled her to main- 
 tain a conciliatory demeanour towards both 
 her brother and her niece. She met her 
 reward; for Sir Duncan, who had antici-
 
 MISS FORBES. 71 
 
 pated a good deal of discomfort from her 
 presence, was so agreeably disappointed 
 that he felt a certain gratitude towards 
 her, as though she had been the means of 
 procuring him some unexpected good for- 
 tune. It was therefore natural that he 
 should willingly accede to any request of 
 hers, even though it might entail a depart- 
 ure from his accustomed mode of life : he 
 owed her a debt, and he would discharo^e 
 it generously. 
 
 It certainly startled him considerably 
 when she proposed that the Hall should be 
 shut up, and that they should go abroad 
 for a year in order to give Muriel some 
 further advantages. Still, he promised to 
 think it over, and finally agreed to a com- 
 promise : he would take the party to Ger- 
 many, and remain with them for three or 
 four months ; but at the end of that time 
 he would probably return home, leaving 
 them to complete their term of absence.
 
 72 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Muriel's delight was unbounded; and 
 even the parting with Mrs Bennett was 
 got over at the cost of many kisses and 
 a few tears ; for what young thing about 
 to launch into a sea of new and won- 
 derful pleasures, can spare more than a 
 moment's thought to the older mariners, 
 whose boats have been long since stranded 
 on the shore '? 
 
 Ronald was away at Dollar when the 
 time came for saying farewell, but he was 
 at the manse for the holidays when Sir 
 Duncan returned alone from the Continent. 
 He was greatly improved, both in look and 
 manner, and in company with Sir Duncan 
 showed to advantage; so that the latter 
 would ask him up to the Hall, would lend 
 him books, and sometimes take him with 
 him in his walks about the place. ^' He 
 cheers my solitude, for the Hall is empty 
 without Muriel," he would say to Mrs 
 Bennett ; and she assented, and gladly saw
 
 MISS FOKBES. 73 
 
 Eonald profiting by nis new companion s 
 good sense and experience. 
 
 Those were happy days for the lad ; and 
 none the less so that he heard a good deal 
 of the travellers' news, for Sir Duncan 
 would often take his letters down to the 
 manse for Mrs Bennett to read. He had 
 by this time completely abandoned Tom 
 Paterson and his poaching associates, shak- 
 ing them off with as cool a determination 
 as he had shown strong self-will in joining 
 them ; and though he still loved to talk 
 wdth Jamie, he seemed to have little in 
 common with his old playmates. 
 
 ''When you're home in summer, Eonald, 
 Muriel will be at the Hall," said Mrs Ben- 
 nett, not reckoning on the chances that 
 control a young lady's movements. 
 
 Chance, indeed, is a much abused word, 
 figuring, as it does, for all the passions that 
 are the real springs of our actions. By 
 chance it happened that at the time of the
 
 74 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 Dollar summer vacation, Muriel was visit- 
 ing friends in England; and at the New 
 Year, during the few days that she was at 
 home she had a cold, which chanced to 
 require an unusual amount of care. Miss 
 Forbes was not one to leave matters to any 
 chance that was not of her own arranging. 
 
 Eonald silently resented the ill-nature, 
 as he considered it, which prevented him 
 from seeing his child-friend ; for he did not 
 believe in the cold from which she was suf- 
 fering, and even Mrs Bennett thought that 
 precautions were being carried needlessly 
 far. Surely no harm could come of the 
 bairns meeting each other once or twice. 
 She was hurt; and when an invitation 
 arrived for her from the Hall two days 
 after her boy had returned to Dollar, 
 she declined it, without much attempt at 
 excuse. 
 
 Forthwith, however. Sir Duncan ap- 
 peared, to inquire if she were ailing, and
 
 MISS FORBES. 75 
 
 to reproacli her for her absence ; and be- 
 fore his kindly tones her resentment melted 
 away, and after a plea or two she Avith- 
 drew the refusal that had vexed him. She 
 knew that he was innocent of any share in 
 his sister's schemes ; and for his sake and 
 Muriel's, she tolerated Miss Forbes's polite- 
 ness, which was so unlike the frank cour- 
 tesy to which she had been accustomed, 
 and even accepted calmly Miss Trimmer's 
 patronising allusions to her early care of the 
 child, now fast blossoming into girlhood. 
 
 The ladies made but a brief stay at the 
 Hall, and greatly to Sir Duncan's dissatis- 
 faction, began a series of visits which quite 
 filled up the short time allowed as a Christ- 
 mas vacation, leaving him in the solitude 
 to which he had now grown accustomed. 
 Once only he tried to expostulate : " Sure- 
 ly, Alicia, Muriel is too young to go visit- 
 ing. I think she might stay at home during 
 the holidays."
 
 76 THE minister's son. 
 
 *' Certainly, if you wish it, Duncan ; but 
 it seems a pity she should have no com- 
 panions. There are no children of her own 
 age near at hand here except those dread- 
 ful Hardwickes, and I am sure she must 
 be dull." 
 
 *' Dull ! Muriel dull ! My dear Alicia, 
 you must find some better argument than 
 that to convince me. I never saw the 
 child dull in my life.'' 
 
 Miss Forbes had made a mistake, and 
 knew it : it was she who felt dull at Inver- 
 allan, not her niece. Luckily for her, she 
 could always drop an argument that did 
 not suit her purpose, ignoring her own 
 assertions as completely as if they had 
 never been uttered ; and she did so on this 
 occasion. 
 
 " Of course, as I said before, you must 
 settle matters as you like. You know I 
 always defer to your opinion. I arranged 
 these visits, thinking it judicious that Muriel
 
 MISS FORBES. 77 
 
 should have an opportunity of seeing chil- 
 dren who may be her friends by-and-by." 
 
 " Friends and partners — eh, Alicia ? " 
 
 *'And partners, certainly. I suppose you 
 would not have me decline to enter a house 
 where there happened to be boys of her 
 own age ; and you may be sure, Duncan, 
 I am only taking her to the very best 
 houses." 
 
 *' I have not the slightest doubt of that, 
 my dear." 
 
 " But the visits can be put off. Let me 
 see: there's a childs' fancy-ball at the Duke 
 of Limeshire's — she will be sorry to miss 
 that ; and then there are the Gordons of 
 Gordon — I must put them off. What had I 
 best say 1 " murmured Miss Alicia, as if to 
 herself, while she continued her knitting. 
 
 Sir Duncan laus^hed. "Do not distress 
 yourself, Alicia. Of course, if the child is 
 counting on her visits, it would be cruel to 
 disappoint her — and I would not for the
 
 78 THE minister's SON. 
 
 world oblige you to give up going to the 
 Duke's or any other of the ' very best ' 
 houses ; only, I must say this, I think you 
 should have told me before your plans 
 were completed." 
 
 *' Well, really, Duncan, you care so little 
 for these things — you never attend when 
 we get invitations," began Miss Alicia, look- 
 ing rather confused. 
 
 " I confess my sins on that head. I can- 
 not remember the contents of the piles of 
 notes you get through, but I do care about 
 the disposal of Muriel's time. Do not vex 
 yourself now; you shall have your way, 
 but let me have mine a little when she is 
 next at home." 
 
 Miss Forbes felt that she had been for- 
 tunate in this conversation, even while she 
 wondered at her brother's blindness. Per- 
 haps he was less blind than she thought ; 
 and he had indeed felt no small annoyance 
 when he discovered that his daughter was
 
 MISS FORBES. 79 
 
 to be carried off, as a reason for her aunt's 
 own enjoyment. No doubt Miss Forbes 
 honestly meant to do well by the girl, as 
 well as by herself. Sir Duncan recognised 
 her good intentions in her choice of places 
 to be visited ; and after all, she thought her- 
 self a woman of the world, and with such 
 a one it was impossible for a man with 
 Sir Duncan's tastes to argue. 
 
 " What is light to me is darkness to her, 
 and vice versd" thought he — adding with a 
 smile, '' I can trust my Muriel : she will see 
 through the clouds of her aunt's wisdom 
 by the time she is a woman, or her mother's 
 nature and the early training she had will 
 count for nothing."
 
 80 
 
 CHAPTER v.. 
 
 STUKM UND DRANG. 
 
 Emboldened by her successes, Miss Forbes 
 took a further step shortly after the holi- 
 days, and, seconded by Miss Trimmer, re- 
 ported that Muriel had profited so much by 
 her classes, and was so much improved even 
 by her short residence abroad, that it was 
 a thousand pities that she should be hurried 
 away. It would be far better to leave her 
 there for another year, or even more, than 
 to remove her, as had been originally pro- 
 posed, to a school in London. 
 
 Sir Duncan sighed, but consented to his 
 sister's new scheme, — travelling over him- 
 self to Germany to ascertain whether his
 
 "STURM UXD DRANG." 81 
 
 daughter really wished to remain abroad 
 for another year or two. The girl, in the 
 midst of the keen delight that a young 
 mind feels when each day brings some fresh 
 knowledge within its grasp, assured her 
 father that she would bitterly regret the 
 interruption of her studies ; and Sir Duncan 
 returned home alone, and told Mrs Bennett 
 with a quiet smile that he would soon hardly 
 know his own bairn, she was growing so 
 tall, and was so well finished in every way. 
 To this Mrs Bennett replied that it was to 
 be expected, and that she wished she could 
 feel the same as regarded her boy, who re- 
 mained unfinished in every respect. "Just 
 a big schoolboy," she added, with a touch 
 of bitterness in her tone. 
 
 In sooth, she had some reason to com- 
 plain of Eonald in his present state; and her 
 natural impatience, as well as her motherly 
 desire for excellence in her son, led her 
 to overlook the probability that some, at 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 THE minister's SON. 
 
 least, of his faults would cure themselves 
 in time, and might be considered in the 
 same light as chickenpox or any other harm- 
 less youthful ailment. 
 
 Passing from Dollar to the college in 
 Edinburgh, the contradictions in his nature 
 became more marked than ever. In the 
 town, he prided himself on the roughness of 
 his clothes, and affected uncouth modes of 
 speech. He was the ringleader when the 
 Greek class broke into hideous din, or the 
 gallery at the Keid concert was filled with 
 trampling boys. No one joined more readily 
 in any loud jest ; and when a Lord Eecter 
 was to be elected, he was the most hot- 
 headed of Eadical canvassers. At the de- 
 bating club, too, his voice was loudest in 
 declaiming against social distinctions, which 
 the boy - speakers treated as if they were 
 among the great realities of life. 
 
 Yet Konald had friends in the college of 
 another stamp, who knew a diflferent side
 
 "STURM UND DRANG." 83 
 
 of his character — knew that among the 
 quiet recesses of the Braid Hills, where 
 they hunted for ferns or flowers, he would 
 talk of books, of poetry, of hopes and 
 dreams, in tones unlike those in which 
 he uttered the noisy declamations of the 
 club. 
 
 It was on a soft spring day, after one of 
 these meetings, that he and a friend named 
 Porteous, a quiet and somewhat dandified 
 lad, had agreed to 2^0 botanising together. 
 They were to meet at the end of the Bridges 
 and proceed along Princes Street. 
 
 Porteous, in a neat tweed suit, with a 
 correct tin botanical case across his shoulder, 
 arrived first, and presently, to his dismay, 
 saw Eonald swinging along towards him, 
 clad in a rough and ill-made suit of very 
 light brown, and carrying in his hand a 
 battered milk-tin, with an impromptu han- 
 dle of string. 
 
 " You are never going along Princes
 
 84 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Street at three in the afternoon in that rig, 
 Ronald 1 " exclaimed Porteous. 
 
 '' Certainly I am : what ails you at it 1 
 Come along/' 
 
 ** Not for the world. Here, jump into a 
 cab ; it won't cost much," said the other, 
 hailing one as he spoke. 
 
 *' It mayn't cost much, but you may pay 
 it. I wouldn't go in a cab for the world," 
 replied Ronald, gravely; and hailing an 
 omnibus in his turn, he was on the roof in 
 a moment, the objectionable milk-tin care- 
 fully displayed upon his knee. 
 
 When both got down at the end of 
 Princes Street, Porteous could not but 
 laugh at his own discomfiture ; nor did he 
 allude to the subject again till they had 
 had a breather up the hills, and had sat 
 down to discuss their bread and cheese on 
 a grey boulder overlooking a wooded hol- 
 low, where the first green was beginning to 
 powder the brown sprays.
 
 it C<rT^^TT,^T TT>TT^ T^Tl A "VT^ " 
 
 STUKM UND DRANG. 85 
 
 "In confidence now, Ronald, where on 
 earth did you get that tin ? '' began Por- 
 teous. 
 
 "I bouo^ht it from a bairn in the High 
 Street gutter for the sum of a bawbee.'' 
 
 " And what inducM you to commit such 
 an extravagance ? " 
 
 '' A desire to ruffle your aristocratic pre- 
 judices, I believe. It's an ill-conditioned 
 article, I admit," replied Ronald, gazing 
 pensively at its deep-dinted sides. 
 
 " I thought so ; and I suppose it was for 
 the same reason that you were so ferocious 
 at the club last night ? " 
 
 '' Partly. I saw you were there, and I 
 thought it would be good for you to listen 
 to the voice of reason." 
 
 "The voice of nonsense, you mean. 
 Come, Ronald, look me in the face, here on 
 this hillside, and repeat in earnest all you 
 said last nio^ht." 
 
 Ronald turned, and surveying the speaker
 
 86 THE MmiSTER's SON. 
 
 with the same air of mock gravity, gave a 
 long whistle. 
 
 *' Couldn't do it, my boy ; the fire isn't 
 kindled at present." 
 
 ''The flame's gone into smoke, in fact. 
 Well, if I were you, 1 wouldn't talk a lot 
 of balderdash to a parcel of lads at night, 
 that I'd be ashamed to repeat to a friend in 
 cool blood next day." 
 
 "I daresay you're right, Porteous; but 
 you're such a quiet fellow, you don't know 
 the temptation. It must be the Macgregor 
 blood in me, I suppose, that gets up some- 
 times, till I feel as if a devil had got posses- 
 sion of me. And I'll tell you what, there's 
 a woman, a lady'' added Eonald, with 
 bitter emphasis, "who could rouse me at 
 this moment if she walked across the brae 
 there, with her silks and jewels, and fine 
 air of being above me." 
 
 '' Do you mean you grudge her her silks 
 and jewels ? "
 
 ''STURM UXD DRAXG." 87 
 
 " Do I mean I'm an idiot 1 It's the air, 
 the manner, the — I don't know what ; I 
 only know the sight of her makes me mad." 
 
 '' Miss Forbes, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '' Well, I confess you're a puzzle to me, 
 Konald. There's a fat old woman who kept 
 some lodgings I once had, and she must 
 have been of the same kind of nature as 
 your aversion. She wore a silk gown on 
 Sabbath, and a Paisley shawl with a huge 
 pebble brooch ; and I assure you it was a 
 sight to see the way she gathered her rust- 
 ling skirts and avoided the poorer folk she 
 passed. She often amused me, but I can't 
 say she annoyed me." 
 
 ''That's not the same thing." 
 
 " It seems to me it is the same thing, — 
 human nature coming out in just the same 
 way in a different class. Excuse me, Konald, 
 you've told me the truth, and nothing but 
 the truth, but you've never told me the
 
 88 THE minister's SON. 
 
 whole truth. There must be more behind, 
 or a fellow like you wouldn't be so pro- 
 voked by the whims of a foolish woman." 
 
 Eon aid gave an inarticulate reply, and 
 after a moment's silence, proposed that they 
 should walk on ; nor was the subject re- 
 newed between them. Porteous was right. 
 He had heard more than once of Miss 
 Forbes and her supposed delinquencies, 
 but Eonald had never breathed the name of 
 Muriel, for even to himself he had hardly 
 confessed how deeply he had resented the 
 aunt's interruption of his boyish friendship 
 for her niece. Moreover, in his hot youth 
 he could hardly perceive that the antagon- 
 ism between him and Miss Forbes sprang, 
 in part, from a likeness of character. 
 
 Miss Forbes thought highly of birth and 
 rank : she had the Scotch love of genealogy 
 and pedigree, and for a Scotchwoman, an 
 unusual love of display. Hence the silk 
 attire, and the perpetual tinkle of bracelets
 
 "STURM UND DRANG." 89 
 
 and shine of gems, that no one disliked 
 more than her quiet brother Sir Duncan. 
 Her manner was never so imperious as in 
 speaking to Ronald himself, because she 
 felt that he grudged her the deference she 
 deemed her due ; and the lad rebelled at her 
 tone all the more because he knew that he 
 too loved a pedigree ; and though he was 
 not ill content with his mother's name, he 
 disliked his patronymic, and hated the posi- 
 tion in which it seemed to him almost un- 
 just that he should have been born. He 
 knew in his secret heart that had he been 
 of higher rank he would have heeded the 
 lady's fancies no more than he heeded the 
 freaks of a fellow-collegian ; and it had not 
 occurred to him that a manlier self-respect 
 would have given him the self-assurance he 
 needed, while a more courteous manner 
 would have disarmed her dislike. 
 
 By-and-by, however, in his second year 
 at the college, he observed that he was less
 
 90 THE minister's SON. 
 
 noticed than lie had been at first by the 
 professors, some of whom were his father's 
 friends ; and more than one lady, at whose 
 house he had once or twice been entertain- 
 ed, treated him with marked coldness. 
 
 '' What's the meaning of it, Porteous ? " 
 said he one day to his friend, who had just 
 received a gracious bow and smile, while 
 only a chill recognition had been vouchsafed 
 to himself. 
 
 " It's another form of Forhesism, I fancy," 
 replied Porteous, smiling. 
 
 " What in the world do you mean 1 " 
 
 *' My dear fellow, if you will behave like 
 a youDg savage, you can't expect that people 
 will wish you to exhibit in their drawing- 
 rooms. It's all very well to declaim against 
 social usages in the debating club, but Mrs 
 Professor Smith likes them attended to in 
 her house. AVhy on earth do you want 
 your father's friends to think you an ill- 
 mannered clown 1 "
 
 91 
 
 ''Holloa! gently, I say." 
 
 " That's what Smith himself called you ; 
 and why you do it, I don't know. It vexes 
 me awfully to hear you abused, because I 
 know you're not such a bad fellow as you 
 make yourself out to be." 
 
 " What a devil of a fuss people make 
 about trifles ! " 
 
 " It's you that make a fuss, by refusing 
 to yield to the majority. If these things 
 are trifles, why contend about them 1 " 
 
 " You admit they are trifles ? " 
 
 " No, I don't. I don't consider anything 
 a trifle that makes the wheels of life run 
 easier. If I find a fellow's always rude and 
 rough, I avoid him, as I would any other 
 nuisance. And it seems to me that a man 
 who is afraid of showing courtesy to others, 
 is wanting in self-respect." 
 
 *' Well, you've given me a pretty rating. 
 I wonder why I stand it from you ! " 
 
 " Because you half agree with me, my
 
 92 THE minister's son. 
 
 lad, — that's the reason/' replied Porteous ; 
 and Eonald did not dissent. 
 
 He was, in fact, growing weary of the 
 noisy set to which he had attached him- 
 self. Things had been said and done that 
 annoyed him ; for though in a fit of mo- 
 rose passion he might plunge into boister- 
 ous excess, the real refinement of his nature 
 invariably reasserted itself in time. At 
 college, he was repeating on a larger scale 
 the Paterson episode of his childhood. 
 
 Other motives, too, withdrew him from 
 his rough companions; for he was beginning 
 to think, or at least was endeavouring to 
 think, more seriously of the profession for 
 which he was destined. He had hitherto 
 pursued his studies with a keen relish for 
 their own sake, and had regarded them as 
 rungs in the ladder leading to that pleas- 
 ant but indefinite career of which he still 
 thought with vague ambition. 
 
 Now, however, the clerical net was clos-
 
 "STUEM UND DRAXG." 93 
 
 ing in upon him ; and as lie plunged into 
 more technical branches of learning, he 
 realised more and more fully his aversion 
 to his future occupation. At the same 
 time, he did not know to what other work 
 he could turn his hand, and was thoroughly 
 convinced that his father would not only 
 refuse to help him, but would hardly par- 
 don him, if he were to breathe a syllable 
 of his feeling. 
 
 Again and again he debated with him- 
 self whether he should surrender blindly 
 or make a struggle for freedom, and again 
 and again the debate left him as undecided 
 as ever. Sometimes there came to him 
 glimpses of what he might be and do if 
 his heart were in his work. 
 
 On one winter night he strolled down 
 the High Street, observing idly the groups 
 crowded below the flaring gas. Here, at 
 the door of a public-house, hideous laughter 
 rose from a knot of idlers as a despairing
 
 94 THE minister's SON. 
 
 wife, with vehement words and gestures, 
 tried to drag her half-drunken husband 
 away. Lower down, haggard, poorly clad 
 women drove hard bargains at a butcher's 
 open shop-front, for it was Saturday night. 
 Beyond these, the whole street was lit with 
 a red glare ; for between flaring torches, a 
 clown with merry antics was begging the 
 crowd to walk up and see the wonderful 
 sights within his brightly painted van. On 
 the other side of the van, where the shadows 
 were darkest, crouched a solitary figure — a 
 woman, scantily clad, her white face turned 
 blankly to the mist above her, unheeding the 
 laugh and stir, deaf to the clown's jest, blind 
 to his streaming torchlight, for on her knee 
 lay the thin body of a child newly dead. 
 
 Ronald stopped, horror-struck, full of 
 pity that he knew not how to express, and 
 with a vague idea of help, looked up and 
 down the street, to see if there were a cab 
 at hand. There was none ; but as he glanced
 
 a omxTT>iiT T'X'T^ T^^5 a x-r. " 
 
 STURM UND DRANG. 95 
 
 down the hill where the street was quieter 
 and the blue mist hung softly, he saw a 
 dark figure coming quickly towards him. 
 It was a young man he knew by sight and 
 name, a true minister, whose warm and 
 living faith was 
 
 " Above all chances and all churches." 
 
 As he advanced his eye fell on the miser- 
 able woman, and in a moment he was at 
 her side. Eonald could see the motionless 
 head gradually droop, the listless hands 
 suddenly raised to the face, and he guessed 
 that the merciful tears had come. 
 
 The minister took from his own shoulders 
 a plaid, in which he tenderly wrapped the 
 tiny child, and lifting it in his arms and 
 telling the mother to lean on him, he passed 
 on his way. Eonald followed for a little 
 distance, and saw that he paused twice : 
 once to speak to the wife whose husband 
 had left her, and who was now rating the
 
 96 THE minister's son. 
 
 crowd; and at the sound of his voice she 
 grew still, and slipped away home. Again 
 he stopped, and this time the sobbing 
 woman beside him bent, at his suggestion, 
 to comfort and direct a toddling bairn that 
 had lost its way. After that, he and his 
 companion moved on into the narrowing 
 darkness of the street, and Eonald saw 
 them no more. 
 
 But his heart was touched for the moment, 
 and he asked himself what better life he 
 could wish than to scatter help and comfort 
 about his path, as this brave Christian was 
 doing. Boy as he was, he did not consider 
 whether he would ever reach the same 
 serene heights of faith, but assumed that 
 he could, if he would, do work such as he 
 had seen that nio^ht. Satisfied as he was 
 upon that point, it did nevertheless occur 
 to him that but comparatively few ministers 
 are in the stir of city life, and that for him 
 in particular another lot was intended.
 
 97 
 
 James Bennett had succeeded his father 
 at Tillybodle, and he trusted that in time 
 Ronald would as surely succeed him, for 
 these were the days of patronage ; and the 
 lad's very soul sickened within him as he 
 thought of that monotonous country life, 
 with Muriel Forbes at once so near him 
 and so very far away. Nevertheless, for 
 the present at least, he must struggle on, 
 trusting to those all-potent possibilities with 
 which an ardent mind fills up the blanks of 
 the future. 
 
 VOL. I. (J
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 
 
 Time passed till it was now full four years 
 since Ronald and Muriel had met, and he 
 wondered what she would be like, picturing 
 to himself a somewhat pensive face with 
 serious eyes, such as he had been used to 
 watch when she said her lesson at his 
 mother's knee. 
 
 Winter sports were in full swing when 
 he went home to the manse for a brief 
 vacation. The country had long been frost- 
 bound, — snow powdered the Ochills, and 
 clothed the Grampians from head to foot ; 
 trees and rocks stood out blackly from the 
 universal misty grey, and the still air rang
 
 THE FIEST SIGHT OF HER. 99 
 
 with the merry shouts of curlers and the 
 far-heard hum of their stones. Skating, 
 too, had begun to be the fashion, and the 
 players of the roaring game were no longer 
 allowed to monopolise all the good ice in 
 the country. Airthrey Loch, in particular, 
 was a favourite resort : winding as it did 
 for a considerable distance between grassy 
 banks, it was especially suited for skaters, 
 and was beautiful besides. 
 
 Thither Eonald was repairing the morn- 
 ing after his arrival, skates in hand, and as 
 he tramped along he whistled cheerily. The 
 keen air inspired him, the sun shone bril- 
 liantly on the frosty earth, and his mother 
 had told him that a party from the Hall 
 went almost daily to the loch. 
 
 When he had gone about half-way, the 
 Inverallan waggonette passed him, full of 
 ladies and gentlemen muffled up in furs. 
 One of the former turned her head, and 
 catching sight of him, nodded in a friendly
 
 100 THE minister's SON. 
 
 way. He could not see her face, but his 
 heart beat as he hastened on, impatient at 
 his own slow progress, though he was doing 
 near five miles an hour. 
 
 How graceful she looked! he could see 
 that, though a veil hid her features : how 
 pretty that black hat was I and there was 
 something crimson round her throat : the 
 furs, too, looked so rich and warm, — the 
 whole effect was so pleasantly luxurious ! 
 How would she behave to him at the loch ; 
 and who were those men in the carriage 1 
 Dandy Londoners, no doubt, thought Eonald, 
 jealously. 
 
 Not that he had as yet said to himself 
 distinctly that he admired or cared for 
 Muriel Forbes ; his thought was only of 
 liking, of old times, of home associations ; 
 yet that thought was but coyly awaiting 
 the touch, the glance, the moment's im- 
 pulse, that should transfigure it, turning 
 liking to love.
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 101 
 
 Arriving at the water-side, lie fastened 
 on his skates, and darted hither and thither 
 in search of the party from the Hall. The 
 ice was crowded, and people naturally di- 
 vided themselves into groups, according to 
 their capabilities and tastes. 
 
 At one end curling was in full swing, 
 and round the rinks stood numerous spec- 
 tators. Here a troop of boys were sliding, 
 while near them inexperienced skaters made 
 their first essays, each hoping that his or 
 her clumsiness might be unnoticed in the 
 crowd. It was a vain hope ; for if now and 
 again a luckless tyro met with a fall, he was 
 pretty sure to hear a mocking cry of " Soop 
 him up ! soop him up ! " or " Crack an egg 
 upon him ! " from the laddies on the slide. 
 
 Here and there, keeping near the edge, 
 was some solitary performer who shrank 
 from the general fun ; and beyond these 
 again, where the loch curves suddenly, was 
 a broad expanse of ice, on which the more
 
 102 THE minister's SON. 
 
 skilful were enjoying and exhibiting their 
 powers. Among these, Eonald soon espied 
 the ladies from the Hall ; and he shot away 
 down the side so as to turn and face them 
 on his way back : he would not speak, he 
 thought, till he saw what greeting Muriel 
 would bestow. 
 
 He was not long kept in doubt, for she no 
 sooner saw him than she moved towards him 
 sufficiently to oblige him to come up to her. 
 
 '* I am so glad to see you, Eonald," she 
 said, cordially. " Isn't this a lovely day ? 
 and the ice is perfect. Come and let me 
 introduce you to my friends, and we'll go 
 down the loch to the far end." 
 
 For an instant Eonald was almost too 
 much bewildered to reply. Was it possible 
 that the little child he remembered could 
 be this dazzling girl 1 
 
 Her eyes were sparkling, her colour 
 heightened, the expression of her face was 
 bewitching, with its happy blending of in-
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 103 
 
 nocence and fun. She looked the picture 
 of health and joy; and Eonald turned, with 
 a new, sudden sense of delight, and followed 
 her to the spot where three or four ladies 
 and gentlemen were gliding slowly about, 
 evidently waiting for their hostess. 
 
 From the opposite side, another gentle- 
 man just then joined the group, and was 
 received by Muriel with less cordiality 
 than she had evinced to her old friend. 
 The new-comer was short and stout, with a 
 heavy face and small eyes ; and not being 
 thoroughly at home on his skates, he bowed 
 awkwardly as Muriel began a general intro- 
 duction. 
 
 ^' Mary, this is my old friend Mr Bennett. 
 Miss Gordon, Mr Hardwicke, Miss Leslie, 
 Mr Bennett. There ! it is very difficult to 
 introduce you all when none of you stand 
 still for two seconds. Now let us go right 
 down the loch ; " and away she sped, fol- 
 lowed by the rest of the party.
 
 104 THE minister's SON. 
 
 To Ronald's surprise, Miss Leslie began 
 to talk to him with apparent interest, and 
 an evident desire to monopolise his society. 
 She was by turns amusing and sarcastic, 
 and launched into the gossip of a world 
 unknown to Eonald, and quite unlike that 
 of Edinburgh drawing-rooms. 
 
 A puzzled look crossed her face when he 
 more than once confessed that he was un- 
 acquainted with the people she mentioned ; 
 and at last, annoyed at his own ignorance, 
 wearied of her talk, and impatient at his 
 detention from Muriel's side, he uttered 
 some vague excuse and glided away. 
 
 But he was not to exchange many words 
 with Muriel, for one of the gentlemen, 
 whose name he had not caught, kept per- 
 sistently near her, and there ensued a mute 
 rivalry on Ronald's part, in which he was 
 speedily forced to confess himself beaten. 
 He skated fairly well, and had had some 
 dim notion that he could outdo the dandies,
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 105 
 
 as he scornfully termed the other young 
 men ; and certainly the heavy-faced youth 
 was soon distanced, and left to his fate, in 
 the shape of Miss Leslie. 
 
 Muriel's companion was of a different 
 type. His general appearance was precisely 
 of the kind to irritate a lad like Eonald, 
 conscious of his own deficiencies, and jeal- 
 ous of the very ease with which the other 
 man enjoyed the position he himself cov- 
 eted ; but he was no mere idler, at least 
 as far as physical activity was concerned, 
 and Eonald soon felt that while he was 
 exerting himself to his utmost, this rival, 
 with his perfect skates, was moving as 
 easily as though he were walking across 
 a room. The girl, now skating between 
 them, now holding back while they en- 
 joyed the luxury of outside edge or tried 
 some more difficult figure, may have under- 
 stood something of Ronald's thoughts ; per- 
 haps she wished to give him a lesson, or
 
 106 THE minister's SON. 
 
 perhaps it was out of mere fun that she 
 turned to her companion and begged him 
 to show her some of the figures he had 
 learned in Canada. 
 
 Without demur the young man com- 
 plied, and Eonald's honesty forced him 
 to applaud the skilled grace of the per- 
 formance, after which Muriel spoke to him 
 with all her former kindness. 
 
 Together they reached the bank when 
 the short afternoon was beginning to close 
 in, and the first thrill of envy darted 
 through Eonald as he lingered foolishly 
 and watched Captain Leslie — this was the 
 skater's name — removing the skates from 
 Muriel's dainty feet. 
 
 She, meanwhile, was momentarily per- 
 plexed : it seemed ungracious to bid Eon- 
 ald good-bye, and leave him to follow on 
 foot, when she must drive past his very 
 door ; but the only vacant place in the 
 carriage was on the box, the gentleman
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 107 
 
 who had filled it not intending to return. 
 Could she, should she, offer it to Eonald ? 
 He looked as if he were more touchy than 
 ever : would he think that she was slight- 
 ing him if she placed him in the servants' 
 seat 1 
 
 Something of her doubt was in her tone 
 as she spoke. " Couldn't we take you home, 
 Eonald ? Let me see ; Mr Humphreys is 
 not coming back — he was on the box." 
 
 " I will take the box-seat. Miss Forbes, 
 if you will allow me, and Mr Bennett can 
 have my place ; I shall be glad of a smoke," 
 said Captain Leslie, with ready tact, as he 
 wound the straps round the skates. 
 
 Eonald wondered why Muriel thanked 
 him with so bright a glance, and did not 
 fail to observe the look of pleasure with 
 which Leslie turned away; but he took 
 his seat happily enough in the waggon- 
 ette, and talked of he knew not what 
 and he knew not how, his whole soul so
 
 108 THE minister's SON. 
 
 absorbed in watching the beautiful face 
 opposite to him, that the conversation 
 made no more impression on him than if 
 it had been the talk of a dream. She 
 gave him her hand as she said good-night, 
 and he hardly dared to touch it, but got 
 down, and stood at the little garden-gate 
 till the flash from the carriage-lamps and 
 the white steam of the horses' breath had 
 vanished at a turn of the road. 
 
 Then he went in, with a strange dazzled 
 look in his eyes, and replied vaguely to 
 his mother's questions, till she gazed at 
 him over her spectacles and asked him 
 sharply what ailed him, that he should 
 talk like a man in his sleep ? 
 
 At that he shook himself, as though in 
 reality but newly awakened, and met his 
 mother s eyes kindly, and told her that he 
 had had a pleasant day. 
 
 Muriel's impressions of the afternoon 
 were given in the few precious minutes'
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 109 
 
 talk which she invariably had witli her 
 father before dinner. 
 
 " Well, my pet, have you enjoyed your- 
 self? " said he. 
 
 '' Yes, papa ; and Konald was there, and 
 I brouojht him home in the carriag^e. Aunt 
 Alicia was angry ; but he had been with us, 
 and I could not say good-bye to him and 
 leave him to walk when we were going 
 the same way." 
 
 ''No, of course not; what do you think 
 of him?" 
 
 *'0h, he's just his old self, papa. It was 
 such fun ! I had to introduce them all 
 when they were moving about round me, 
 and Mary Leslie made such a mistake, — 
 she took Ronald for — you would never 
 guess — Mr Hardwicke ! " 
 
 " And was she very cordial to him, then?" 
 
 *'Yes, I could not make it out, till I 
 heard her talking to him about people in Lon- 
 don, and then I saw what she had done."
 
 110 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 " And did you enlighten her ? " 
 
 " No, papa," replied Muriel, demurely; "I 
 could not resist leaving her to find out. It 
 was so funny to see her talking to Ronald, 
 and fancying he was the rich Mr Hard- 
 wicke; she never would have tolerated such 
 a coat as he wears except for that idea. 
 Poor dear Ronald, I wish he looked nicer ; 
 don't you, papa ? " 
 
 '' He looks very nice among his own 
 people, my dear," said Sir Duncan ; but his 
 daughter laughed, and kissed him. 
 
 " Oh, papa, that was said just like aunt 
 Alicia ; but I like your own way of speak- 
 ing ever so much better, you know ; " and 
 so saying, the girl left the room. 
 
 It will be seen from the above conver- 
 sation that if Ronald was still a subject 
 of consideration to the elders at the Hall, 
 Muriel herself was perfectly frank and at 
 her ease concerning him ; and as her father 
 reflected, she would not have audibly criti-
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HEE. 1 ] 1 
 
 cised his appearance had she cared at all 
 how he looked. 
 
 Miss Forbes's schemes had, in fact, turned 
 out exactly as she wished, and had not 
 done the harm that might have been ex- 
 pected. 
 
 Muriel was so accustomed to refined so- 
 ciety, to courteous manners and well-bred 
 speech, that these things had become as 
 much a part of her daily life as the food 
 she ate and the clothes she wore. The man 
 who should win her love must never offend 
 in one dainty particular against the habitual 
 good taste of her life and its surroundings. 
 This being so, it was simply impossible 
 that Konald's name should ever be breathed 
 in that delicate inner chamber of her fancy 
 where some day love might inhabit. 
 
 There was no touch of pride in this un- 
 conscious setting apart of her old playmate; 
 she was merely obeying her fine instinct, 
 which had been trained to greater sensitive-
 
 112 THE minister's SON. 
 
 ness. In her friendships she was as frank 
 and sincere as she was shy and reserved 
 at any mention of a warmer feeling ; and 
 neither her aunt's shrewd wisdom, nor the 
 influences carefully brought to bear upon 
 her, had caused her to forget her dear 
 mamsie's early teaching, or rendered her 
 insensible to the beauty of her father's 
 quiet, unworldly life. Perhaps, on the 
 contrary, they had had an opposite effect ; 
 for she was not without native shrewdness, 
 and could see through her aunt's shallow 
 maxims as well as she could appreciate her 
 kindness, which, born of good policy, had 
 now grown into a real affection for her 
 niece. 
 
 Whether she would quickly discover that 
 her friendship could only be to Konald a 
 deadly snare, or whether she would go on 
 unwittingly poisoning his life, would depend 
 on the speed with which her own heart 
 might be roused to understand itself, and
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 113 
 
 others through itself. As yet she was 
 merely a blithe and frank girl. 
 
 Two days after the skating, Eonald, from 
 his father's study, heard the front door open 
 and a clear young voice calling " Mamsie I " 
 
 **Here, my pet," answered his mother 
 quickly, and a light step passed into the 
 sitting-room and the door closed. He sat 
 on, motionless, with strained ears and a 
 throbbing heart, doubting whether to go 
 in or stay away. If he were to go in, into 
 that room where she was sitting, — was she 
 on the low stool, as of old, at mamsie's feet? 
 — what should he do, where should he 
 place himself, how comport himself before 
 her ? What had become of the secret pride 
 with which he had told himself in his 
 noisiest moods that he could play the gen- 
 tleman as easily as the " rough " ? At this 
 moment he felt himself a clown, a shy 
 awkward fool. A ripple of laughter touch- 
 ed his ear, and the faint silvery sound 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 THE minister's SON. 
 
 brought a hot flush to his face. Hark ! 
 the door opened; had he waited too long 
 and lost his chance? was she actually going? 
 No : it was his mother's quiet footfall in the 
 passage ; she was coming to him, and he 
 leant his head on his hands over the open 
 book before him. 
 
 " Ronald, Muriel's here ; come and see 
 her." 
 
 '' Is she ? did she ask for me, mother? " 
 he answered, as indifferently as he could. 
 
 " Ask for you ! Are you to be asked for 
 before you come and see her, laddie ? She 
 did ask whether you were at home." 
 
 " Very well ; I'll be there in a minute, 
 mother," and as Mrs Bennett, with a mut- 
 tered *^Well, to be sure!" went away, Ronald 
 sprang up, and darting into his father's 
 dressing-room by another door, looked at 
 his hair and his tie, wished that his clothes, 
 his face, his hands, were all other than they 
 were, and hurried back into the parlour.
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 115 
 
 Muriel rose from her seat — it was the 
 old faded stool — as he entered, and again 
 her cordial greeting thrilled and flattered 
 him. For some minutes they chatted of 
 the ice, of the party, of Miss Leslie, whose 
 name brought a furtive smile to Muriel's 
 lips ; then the talk flagged unaccountably, 
 and she rose to leave somewhat abruptly. 
 
 " And when will you come back, dearie ? " 
 said Mrs Bennett, fondly ; " I grow young 
 again whenever 1 see your face.'' 
 
 " Indeed I'll come when I can, mamsie 
 dear ; but you've no notion what a lot I 
 have to do. What between Mrs Simpson, 
 who wants me to learn housekeeping, and 
 aunt Alicia, and father's dear old study 
 tempting one into it, and my own reading, 
 and visitors, and fifty other things, I am 
 always busy." 
 
 " Pleasant business, my dear, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Very pleasant, mamsie. Sometimes I 
 think my life is just too pleasant; but then.
 
 116 THE MmiSTEH's SON. 
 
 again, I think it is good for one to enjoy 
 happiness when it comes, is it not ? " 
 
 '' Of course it is ; and your happiness 
 runs over into other lives, my dear, like 
 the waters of a bright wee burn, — into 
 my quiet life, for example." 
 
 *' Ah ! that is very pleasant to hear. I 
 should like it to be so always," said the 
 girl, gravely. ** Good-bye, Eonald. Mamsie 
 says you are working hard : I hope you will 
 succeed," she added, but the lad did not 
 echo her wish. He only said good-bye as 
 he shook hands, and accompanied her in 
 silence to the garden-gate. She glanced 
 at him curiously as she passed out, and 
 repeated her good-bye with a shade less 
 warmth of tone. 
 
 " Are ye always as grim when ye talk to 
 a young girl, Ronald ? They must think 
 you but poor company," said Mrs Bennett, 
 as he re-entered the house. 
 
 " I have little experience of any company,
 
 THE FIRST SIGHT OF HER. 117 
 
 as you know, mother ; but was I, am I, very 
 
 O ft 
 
 grim? 
 
 " You were just as if you'd seen a ghost 
 The lassie was chattering to me like a bairn 
 again, till you came in." 
 
 '' I am very sorry I spoilt your talk, then, 
 mother, but you fetched me yourself, — I'm 
 off to the study again, now." He could 
 not say to his books, for he knew that he 
 would not read another syllable that day.
 
 118 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 
 
 Ronald was always given to long rambles, 
 but now he began to parcel out his time 
 clay after day in the same fashion. During 
 the w^hole morning he would stay at home, 
 or at least within sight of the house, for he 
 had found out that Muriel's visits had 
 always been paid before her luncheon-time. 
 In the afternoon he w^ent out, and would re- 
 turn at various hours. Sometimes he came 
 home soon, and with a glad face, for he had 
 seen or perhaps spoken to her ; on other 
 days, in spite of cold or wet, he would 
 remain out till long after dark, nursing 
 his disappointment and his dreams.
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 119 
 
 Thaw had set in, and there was no more 
 skating ; the air was full of moisture that 
 gathered on the boughs, and hung there till 
 the slowly formed drops dripped softly to 
 the ground. There was a chill smell in the 
 woods, the fog-wreaths lay along the hill- 
 side, and the sun sank daily behind masses 
 of fiery-edged cloud. Their upper misty 
 spears were just gathering colour on an 
 afternoon when Eonald, with a sigh, 
 stepped out from the tree -trunk against 
 which he had lono- been leanino^, near the 
 little waterfall. As he came forward into 
 the light, Muriel, on her way home from 
 the village, reached the bridge, and recog- 
 nising him, paused. 
 
 He sprang to her side. " It is growing 
 late," he said; "let me come with you to 
 the lodge." 
 
 " It is far later than I thought," she an- 
 swered. " I was talking to Nannie Burton, 
 and I did not notice how the li^ht was
 
 120 THE minister's SON. 
 
 fading. What an age it seems since you 
 and I used to play down there by the 
 fall!" 
 
 "It is an age. Do you remember the 
 day you fell in?" 
 
 " I should think so ; and how cleverly 
 you pulled me out again, and how angry 
 Mrs Simpson was," said Muriel, with her 
 silver lauo^h. 
 
 " She said I was not fit company for you, 
 I remember, which is just my own feeling 
 now." 
 
 " How foolish of you !" said the girl, half 
 surprised, half sorry that he should express 
 the feeling, even if he were conscious of it. 
 
 " I cannot help it, though," he answered, 
 " everything is so changed : it seemed in- 
 credible that you should still come and 
 sit at my mother's feet, as you used to do 
 when you were a little child ! " 
 
 ''You mean that you expected me to 
 forget my old friends. Was it kind or gen-
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 121 
 
 erous of you, Eonald, to take that for 
 granted ? " 
 
 " No, it was neither, but it was human.'" 
 
 " Was it ? I think if I were ever to for- 
 get what your mother was to me, I should 
 be a base woman ; and if it were only that 
 you are her son, I could not feel otherwise 
 than kindly to you." 
 
 " I am grateful for kindness, even if it 
 is only given to my mother's son, and not 
 to me," replied Eonald, with a touch of 
 humour. 
 
 Muriel laughed. " That is just your old 
 demure way of speaking ; you are not 
 changed a bit ! But now tell me, for I 
 want to know, how do you get on with 
 your studies ? " 
 
 ''Well; so my superiors say. Old Pro- 
 fessor Kirke always takes snuff when he 
 has anything to do with me, and that is a 
 favourable symptom." 
 
 *' Of his state, or of yours ? "
 
 122 THE minister's SON. 
 
 ^'Both — his serenity being the effect of 
 my labours, or any one else's whose work 
 pleases him." 
 
 " Well, that is satisfactory ; I am very 
 glad of it," said the girl, kindly. 
 
 '' Are you ? You would like to see me 
 settled as a country minister. I beg your 
 pardon — it does not matter to you. I 
 mean, you think it would be a good thing 
 for me ? " 
 
 " Do you not think so yourself ? It is a 
 grand profession ; and besides, your father 
 and mother long for it so." 
 
 " Ah ! that is another matter. But you 
 admire the profession, then ? " 
 
 *' I do. Churchmen, of any denomina- 
 tion, have such a power of doing good, of 
 helping others, of combating doubt and 
 evil," replied Muriel earnestly, anxious to 
 fulfil a promise given to Mrs Bennett, that 
 if she had an opportunity she would urge 
 Ronald to keener exertions, and endeavour
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 123 
 
 to arouse in liim a greater interest in his 
 future lot. 
 
 " Strange," said he; "I thought you would 
 have admired a soldier's trade." 
 
 There was a second's pause before Muriel 
 answered, but in the dusk he could not see 
 whether her face betrayed any emotion. 
 
 " I admire soldiers too, but one's sym- 
 pathies are not all given to one profession. 
 Each has its own nobleness — that is, for a 
 noble man." 
 
 '' Are you as great a hero- worshipper as 
 ever ? " 
 
 '' Quite ; though I have altered my idea 
 of a hero a little." 
 
 " And your idea is ? " 
 
 " Ah ! I can't put it all into words, with- 
 out thinking of them carefully ; but the 
 hero I admire would find room for noble 
 action in any work or any rank. I would 
 sing of him that 
 
 ' The man's the gowd for a' that.' "
 
 124 THE minister's SOX. 
 
 "And so singing, you would teach a 
 man to be noble," said Eonald, in a very 
 low voice. " I must call on Sir Duncan 
 some day, before I go," he added; "it i^ 
 a long time since I saw him." 
 
 "Yes; he has had a bad cold, and been 
 out very little of late. Come in now, it is 
 just afternoon tea-time." 
 
 "Oh no, not to-day," said Eonald, with 
 a sudden rush of shyness. He could not 
 go into the drawing-room at MurieFs side ; 
 he would betray himself. Out here in the 
 dusky afternoon he need not fear lest she 
 should see the longing in his eyes. 
 
 " To - morrow then, if you like. We 
 are always in at this hour. Next day 
 the house will be filled for the county 
 ball." 
 
 " Indeed I You are going to it ? " 
 
 "Yes. It is my first ball here, and I 
 am looking forward to it immensely." 
 
 " You are sure to enjoy it. Here we are
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 125 
 
 at the lodge. This has been a very pleas- 
 ant walk. Good night, Miss Forbes." 
 
 " Good night. I will tell papa that you 
 are coming to tea to-morrow." 
 
 The iron gates opened and closed, and 
 Eonald turned away to retrace every step 
 of the road he had trod wdth her. How 
 sweet she w^as, how fair, and how high- 
 hearted ! She would be a woman to spur 
 a man on in the work he undertook, to 
 keep his aims pure and his hands clean. 
 No one would dare to show her an ig- 
 noble thought. And what a wonderful 
 delicate reserve there was about her in the 
 midst of all her frankness ! He had longed 
 to call her by her sweet old name — had 
 thought that he would dare so much in 
 leaving her ; but as she bade him good-bye 
 the familiar word would not come, and he 
 had addressed her for the first time as Miss 
 Forbes. He was not sure that she had 
 heard him ; her own tone had not varied
 
 126 THE minister's son. 
 
 by a shade in replying. '^ And she thought 
 the ministry a grand profession ; well, per- 
 haps she was right." 
 
 His mother looked anxiously at him as 
 he came into the parlour, and asked if he 
 had met Muriel. 
 
 " I did ; it was later than she thought, 
 and I saw her to the lodge," he replied, 
 and took up a book. 
 
 Mrs Bennett went on knitting her grey 
 hose ; but glancing at him now and again, 
 she noted that he never turned a page, 
 and her vague uneasiness began to take 
 shape. 
 
 " Is it to keep me from talking to you 
 that you're holding a book in your hand, 
 Eonald ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, mother, how you do watch me!" he 
 replied, a little impatiently, flinging the 
 volume on the table : " there's my father 
 coming to tea, — don't say anything more 
 now."
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 127 
 
 Unfortunately, the habit of arranging 
 their conversation to suit Mr Bennett was 
 growing upon both mother and son. Years 
 ripen a man's nature into greater sweetness 
 and perfection ; or else, with shrinking 
 vitality, his character also shrivels and 
 bears a dry and acid fruit. 
 
 As he grew older, James Bennett became 
 more rigid in his views, and less tolerant in 
 his mode of expressing them. He would not 
 move with the tide ; and the tide, with its 
 surging billows of thought and action, and 
 its foam and froth of speech, swept on and 
 left him behind, a discontented man ; and 
 therefore it happened that in his presence 
 Mrs Bennett and Konald chose their topics 
 carefully, and even then often provoked 
 discussions that were of no avail. 
 
 This evening Eonald mentioned by 
 chance that he intended calling next day 
 at the Hall. 
 
 " I've a great mind to go with you ; I'd
 
 128 THE minister's SON. 
 
 like a word or two with Sir Duncan," said 
 Bennett, grimly. 
 
 '^ What about, James 1 " asked his wife. 
 
 " rd like to know if he intends that stiff- 
 necked sister of his, and his daughter, to 
 go regularly to the English church in Stir- 
 ling, abandoning the Kirk of their fathers, 
 and taking out horses and men for their 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Oh, that's where she goes, is it ? " said 
 Ronald, absently. 
 
 " What is it to you where she goes 1 '' 
 
 " It's her mother's Church," said Mrs 
 Bennett, interposing, "and there never 
 was a better Christian than she was." 
 
 " You are not qualified to speak on that 
 question, wife ; and whatever her mother 
 may have been, Muriel Forbes is allowed 
 to do unadvisable things. With her for- 
 eign ways, music on Sabbath evening, and 
 ball-going, and play-acting in the house, 
 such as there's to be next week, it is
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 129 
 
 clear to me Sir Duncan is neglecting his 
 duty." 
 
 "And do you propose telling him so T'' 
 asked his son. 
 
 '' That will be for me to determine. I 
 am of opinion he has neglected it in allow- 
 ing his daughter to remain so long abroad 
 under her aunt's care. She's a light-headed 
 lassie, I doubt." 
 
 "She's nothing of the sort/' exclaimed 
 Konald, hotly ; " and I have seen her, and 
 talked to her, which I believe you have not 
 done, though you judge her." 
 
 Bennett put down his teacup and looked 
 at his son with a cool, observant gaze, 
 which had always tried Eonald's impa- 
 tient temper sorely. 
 
 " The sooner you return to college, young 
 man, the better. Muriel Forbes is not for 
 you, that you need defend her against me 
 with such heat." 
 
 " I know Muriel a deal better than either 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 THE minister's SON. 
 
 of you/' said Mrs Bennett, "and I could 
 tell you both that she has a more whole- 
 some nature than either of ye dream of/' 
 
 " You speak like a woman, wife. I doubt 
 not the girl has a wholesome nature, as you 
 call it, but you have learned little from 
 me in all these years if you consider that 
 sufficient. But you are against me in 
 these matters, — a man's foes are they of 
 his own household,'* said Bennett, with a 
 dignified sadness that always touched his 
 wife's heart and made her grieve over 
 their differences. 
 
 His harsh creed was so ingrained into 
 the man, that he groaned over what he 
 thought was a falling away that needed 
 severity; and now, as he rose and went 
 silently to his study, she knew that he 
 was full of inward bitterness at the dull 
 state of her spiritual sense. She upheld 
 him, however, to her son, and by this 
 loyalty lost much of the love that she
 
 UNDEH THE SPELL. 131 
 
 longed for passionately. The boy felt that 
 she sided against him, and did not see 
 the struggle in her mind. 
 
 " Your father is right, Eonald ; it will 
 not be for your peace that you should see 
 much of that bonny girl." 
 
 " Have you and he made up your minds 
 that I cannot see her without falling in 
 love with her ? " 
 
 "I am not just blind yet, laddie, and I 
 know both her and you. You're not in 
 the same mind you were when you came 
 from Edinburgh. You didn't stay out 
 then, when the fog's as thick on the hill 
 as the smoke of the Inverallan furnaces ; 
 and you didn't look at your book then, 
 Eonald — you read it. I wish you had a 
 call, and were settled in life. If you were 
 married to some wiselike woman and had 
 your work to do, you'd be quieter, and 
 happier too, laddie." 
 
 " I'm afraid your wiselike woman
 
 132 THE MimSTEH's SON. 
 
 wouldn't suit me, mother ; and as to being 
 settled — I wish I were gold-hunting, cattle- 
 herding in Texas, keeping sheep in Aus- 
 tralia, — anything that would take me away, 
 and give me my freedom ! " 
 
 As he uttered for the first time the need 
 that was in him, Eonald rose and drew 
 himself up, flinging back his head with 
 a gesture that, in his childish days, his 
 mother had known well, for it betokened 
 a wild fit. 
 
 " There's a bondas^e w^orse than lovin£[ a 
 girl that's out of one's reach, mother ; and 
 sometimes I wonder why I don't decide like 
 a man and break my chains." 
 
 Mrs Bennett did not utter a word, and 
 the youth, after waiting for a moment, as 
 if in hope of a reply, left the room ; but 
 when he was gone, she covered her pale 
 face and sobbed tearlessly. She, too, was 
 in bondage, to two proud natures who gave 
 her far less love than they received, but
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 133 
 
 whose affection and presence were to her 
 as her very life-blood. 
 
 She made no allusion to the conversation 
 next day, nor did the minister propose to 
 accompany his son when, at about four 
 o'clock, he set off for Inverallan Hall. He 
 was shown into a small drawing - room, 
 where, when the ladies were alone, they 
 usually sat. Miss Alicia — she made a point 
 of giving her niece her full honours, always 
 speaking of her as Miss Forbes — received 
 him graciously, her fears regarding him 
 being completely at rest. She even called 
 upon Muriel to give him some tea, though 
 she was already at the little table where 
 the tray was laid. 
 
 " You know Muriel is to be introduced to 
 the neighbourhood at the county ball, Mr 
 Bennett/' said she, her bracelets tinkling as 
 she took up some fancy-work. *' It seems a 
 very short time since she was running about 
 here, and learning easy lessons, does it not % "
 
 134 THE minister's SON. 
 
 ''The time seems longer when one looks 
 at her, — one sees it has been time well 
 spent," said Eonald. 
 
 "That is a compliment to me, since I 
 have had the care of her. I confess I am 
 proud of her, and she has been greatly 
 admired," said Miss Alicia, seizing a mo- 
 ment when Muriel had gone to call her 
 father from the library. This young man 
 was evidently improved, and it might be 
 judicious to seem to take him a little into 
 her confidence. '' Of course," she contin- 
 ued, " I feel very anxious as to her future : 
 with her prospects and her beauty, she will 
 be so much sought after." 
 
 '' No doubt ; either would bring her ad- 
 mirers, and together they should vanquish 
 every one." 
 
 Miss Alicia glanced up from her work. 
 This was not the sort of remark she had 
 expected ; young Bennett had become won- 
 derfully self-assured.
 
 UNDER THE SPELL. 135 
 
 In truth, Eonald was watching his ancient 
 foe with amusement. He read her thoughts 
 pretty accurately, and felt cool enough to 
 reply to her covert hints : indeed he won- 
 dered now why he had so hated her — it 
 seemed to him that he had outgrown both 
 his dislike and her power to annoy. 
 
 Sir Duncan's entrance interrupted the 
 brief tete-a-tete^ and the talk flowed on plea- 
 santly in various channels, — so pleasantly 
 indeed, that Eonald forgot to be anxious as 
 to the right moment for departure, and rose 
 at last with a perfectly natural and court- 
 eous apology for having stayed so long. 
 
 " How wonderfully he is improved ! he 
 has really some manners now/' said Miss 
 Alicia, when he was gone. Sir Duncan was 
 silent. 
 
 '' Do you not think him improved, papa ? " 
 said Muriel. 
 
 " In manners, of course he is. I always 
 said the boy was a gentleman at heart."
 
 136 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " What is it, then, papa ? you are doubtful 
 about something." 
 
 " I do not know, my pet — it is a mere 
 impression, — but if that fellow is ever a 
 minister, I shall be very much surprised. 
 Old Bennett fancies it is a sort of duty to 
 make him one ; but if he had a grain of 
 sympathy with the boy, he would see that 
 his bent is quite another way." 
 
 " Couldn't you speak to him, papa ? " 
 
 " I did so once, but he did not like it ; 
 and it is hardly possible to advise a man 
 about his family affairs, unless he asks one. 
 You think it is my function in life to 
 meddle with everything, Muriel," replied 
 Sir Duncan, smiling fondly at the bright 
 face. 
 
 " Of course I do, papa, because you have 
 a wiser head than most people," she replied 
 merrily, and the conversation dropped. 
 
 Meanwhile Eonald as he walked home 
 was continuing the conflict that had been
 
 UXDER THE SPELL. 137 
 
 raging in his breast since last night. Had 
 lie worn his heart upon his sleeve to such 
 an extent that every one must warn him 
 that Muriel was beyond his reach 1 Did 
 he need to be told it, when he knew it, 
 felt the knowledge, at every bitter moment 
 of the day "? 
 
 Did his mother think him so conceited 
 a fool as to fancy, for one moment, that — 
 that — oh, it was impossible ! And yet, 
 how well he understood his pretty play- 
 mate ! how quickly he could sympathise 
 with her thoughts, her opinions, as she 
 expressed them this afternoon, on so many 
 subjects ! He almost wished it were not 
 so : if he had had different tastes, he might 
 have been quieter and happier, as his 
 mother had said. But being, as he was, 
 full of health and strength, and longing 
 for a free and active life, and believing, 
 moreover, that there could be no more love 
 of woman for him, why should he not free
 
 138 THE minister's SON. 
 
 himself at once, even though at the cost of 
 his father's anger and his mother's tears '? 
 Ah ! there was the chain that bound him, 
 and that he had not the courage to break. 
 Still, he would make an attempt ; he would 
 speak to her some night when they were 
 alone, and sound her. And he would go 
 to Stirling, and — somehow or other — see 
 Muriel at the ball. 
 
 They had all spoken of the ball, but no 
 one had asked him if he would be there ; he 
 was of another world. How he would have 
 liked to go, to face her in a ball-room, and 
 see if she would have the courage to dance 
 with him ! Yet why should he wish so to 
 try her '? His evening clothes were grow- 
 ing too tight for him, and he could not get 
 more at present ; and he was a bad dancer — 
 he knew that. Besides, what business could 
 he have at a ball '? Such places were not for 
 men of his cloth, he thought bitterly, and 
 was gloomy and silent all the evening.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 B E Y X D HIS G E A S P. 
 
 Ox the day of the county ball, Eonald 
 beo-ofed his mother to leave the house-door 
 unlocked, as he was going out, and would 
 not be home till late. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " she asked, 
 quickly. 
 
 '' I am going to Stirling." 
 
 '•To Stirling! Preserve us, laddie! you're 
 not so mad as to dream of going to yon 
 ball ? Your father " 
 
 "Would never forgive me. Mother, I 
 am not so dull of wit as you sometimes 
 seem to think me. Make your mind easy. 
 I am not going to appear at the ball ; more
 
 140 THE minister's SON. 
 
 than that I cannot tell you. Now give me 
 a kiss, and I will go." 
 
 Such a request was a very rare thing 
 with Ronald ; and his mother, as she 
 watched him go down the road, comforted 
 herself with the thought that he could not 
 be intending any mischief, or he would not 
 have kissed her. "He has played me many 
 a prank, but he never deceived me yet," she 
 said to herself — which was true, though he 
 had been very near deceit in his reply to 
 her a few minutes ago. It was true also 
 that he had no very definite plan when he 
 started: he did not wish to be observed and 
 recognised, if he could help it ; but he was 
 determined, at any cost, to see Muriel 
 among the possible aspirants respecting 
 whom Miss Alicia professed herself so 
 anxious. 
 
 A knot of boys at the door of the build- 
 ing where the ball was to take place at- 
 tracted his attention; and as he looked, one
 
 BEYOND HIS GRASP. 141 
 
 or two idlers joined the group. They were 
 going to stand on the flight of steps and 
 watch the arrivals, — police supervision be- 
 ing a thing unknown. Here was a chance 
 for Eonald : his quick eye noted that any 
 one on the uppermost step would he in- 
 visible to those coming up, on \vhose faces 
 the strong lamp-light from the entrance-hall 
 must strike. He secured the place in a 
 moment, and ensconcing himself somew^hat 
 behind a pillar, prepared to wait till the 
 Inverallan party should arrive. 
 
 A considerable time elapsed, during 
 which ladies and gentlemen came, at first 
 by twos and threes, then in a more con- 
 tinuous stream. Eonald listened to the 
 comments of his neighbours on the steps, 
 and gazed wdthout much interest, though, 
 perhaps, the sight of the pretty faces and 
 the glimpses of rich colours and scented 
 bouquets were not without their effect. At 
 last, seen dimly behind their divided breath.
 
 142 THE minister's SON. 
 
 the well-known grey horses came rapidly 
 round the corner, and three carriages drew 
 up. Miss Alicia got out of the first, and 
 passed up with her companions. From the 
 second, two gentlemen alighted. Sir Dun- 
 can and another, and handed out Muriel, 
 who came up the steps on her father s arm. 
 Ronald felt, rather than saw, that she was 
 in shining white, and that she looked more 
 radiant than ever. 
 
 As she passed out of his sight, his eye 
 fell on the gentleman who was following 
 her, and he recognised Captain Leslie, the 
 skater with whom she seemed to be on 
 such pleasant terms. Darting down to the 
 street, he hurried to the back entrance of 
 the building, and obtained speech of one 
 of the purveyors, who not unfrequently 
 came in summer to the kirk at Tillybodle. 
 '' Was there any place where he could pos- 
 sibly see the dancing ? '' ^' Oh yes ; there 
 was a bit of a gallery, where two or three
 
 BEYOND HIS GRASP. 143 
 
 of the ladies'-maicls and tlieir friends were 
 standing : he could get in there, no doubt. 
 Oh, of course, he quite understood — no need 
 to say anything about it at Tillybodle ; " 
 and with a wink and a laugh, the man 
 showed Konald the little stair by which he 
 could reach the gallery. 
 
 Keeping in the background, he could 
 still see the upper end of the ball-room, 
 and in the very centre stood the Inverallan 
 party. Sir Duncan was in the act of in- 
 troducing a gentleman with a star on his 
 coat; and almost before Muriel had ac- 
 knowledged his bow, a lady whose dress 
 was blazing with diamonds came up, bring- 
 ing another partner. A little farther along 
 the room, Captain Leslie was being led up 
 by an elderly dame to her two daughters, 
 and Ronald fancied he could detect an im- 
 patient glance to the left as he bowed and 
 made an entry rapidly on his card. The 
 instant he was free he had glided round
 
 144 THE minister's SON. 
 
 behind Muriel ; and certainly there was a 
 brighter pleasure in her eyes as he spoke 
 to her. 
 
 This was evidently a pre-engaged dance, 
 for there was no consulting of cards as he 
 Sfave her his arm and moved with her out 
 from the crush. For a few minutes they 
 were immediately opposite the gallery, and 
 in full view. 
 
 "There's the beauty of the night, — Miss 
 Forbes of Inverallan/' said one of the 
 ladies'-maids. 
 
 " Who is the gentleman ? '' asked another. 
 
 " Captain Leslie, — Sir Francis Leslie of 
 Ardenhaugh's eldest son. She's only just 
 out, but they do say that will be a match." 
 
 "And a handsome couple they'd be," 
 
 was the reply. 
 
 ft 
 
 Eonald grew hot and cold as he listened. 
 His vague impression, then, had not been 
 without foundation. A match ! He was 
 looking already at the man who would win
 
 BEYOND HIS GRASP. 145 
 
 her. Good heavens, how beautiful she 
 was ! her small head was so daintily set 
 on her fair shoulders, her pretty girlish 
 figure was so well displayed by her white 
 dress ! The exquisite bouquet she carried 
 was the only colour about her, save the 
 rose on her cheek : she wore no ornament 
 but a string or two of pearls, and a pair 
 of quaint old bracelets with pearl clasps. 
 Indeed her dress was the simplest in the 
 room ; and as Ronald observed the fact, he 
 revelled in the beauty and fine taste that 
 made her, as she stood there, the queen of 
 the ball. 
 
 But now the music began softly, her 
 companion bent and spoke to her, and she 
 smiled brightly as she listened; his arm 
 was round her, her hand in his. Ronald 
 could have groaned aloud as he looked; 
 and indeed he had unthinkingly prepared 
 a torture for himself, of which, till he had 
 felt it, he had had no conception. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 He had imagined himself strong in the 
 certainty that his love was futile — had 
 fancied that he would like to see the girl 
 he worshipped among her friends, win- 
 ning admiration wherever she moved ; and 
 now he found himself a sudden prey to 
 the fiercest, maddest jealousy, unable to 
 tear himself away, and yet feeding his 
 passion and his despair as he watched 
 her floating round the room. Evidently 
 she and her partner were admirably paired 
 for a ball-room, for their easy rhythmical 
 motion was the perfection of dancing, and 
 it was no wonder that she appeared to be 
 enjoying herself thoroughly. 
 
 Again, and yet again, they danced ; and 
 still Eonald watched, though his eyes 
 ached and his head was dizzy with the 
 heat and glare. Once there was a general 
 move to supper, and he too stole down 
 in search, not of food, but of something 
 to quench his burning thirst.
 
 BEYOXD HIS GRASP. 147 
 
 Sir Duncan never liked late hours, and 
 Muriel was among the first to say good- 
 night. Konald saw her shake hands with 
 some of the dowagers, whose jewels and 
 silks made the upper end of the room gor- 
 geous ; each and all of them had a kindly 
 word for the bright young beauty whose 
 debut had been so complete a success, and 
 the leave-taking was prolonged. 
 
 He slipped away and placed himself on 
 a back-stair where a half-glass door com- 
 manded the hall. Presently Miss Alicia 
 appeared, cloaked and hooded, her face 
 somewhat weary but well content, and 
 next followed the other ladies and Muriel. 
 As she descended. Captain Leslie came for- 
 ward from some corner where he had been 
 waiting, and offered her his arm, which 
 she accepted with a new shyness on her 
 face. How gently he took her bouquet 
 from her hand ! Eonald fancied he was 
 asking for a flower ; certainly there was
 
 148 THE minister's SON. 
 
 a faint movement of assent, and tlie young 
 man's features expressed quiet delight. 
 
 " The Inverallan carriage ! " shouted a 
 waiter, and the whole party hurried on, 
 Ronald boldly opening the glass door and 
 following them. 
 
 '' Who's that wild-looking fellow '? " said 
 one gentleman to another ; but no one 
 knew, and already he had mingled with 
 the small remnant of the crowd. A boy 
 uttered some rude jest as the ladies passed, 
 and Ronald harshly bade him be silent. 
 A girl with bright eyes spoke to him, and 
 he turned from her and shuddered. AYith 
 Ion Of strides he set off in the direction of 
 Tillybodle, and was soon out of the town 
 and beyond the reach of gas-lamps. 
 
 It was a dark night, and he had for- 
 gotten to bring a small lantern. The lights 
 of the ball-room seemed to dance before 
 his eyes, and he could not see the foot- 
 path. But for the cold he would have
 
 BEYOXD HIS GRASP. 149 
 
 lain down under a hedge, so dazed and 
 wearied was he in mind and body; but 
 a keen wind was blowing from the Gram- 
 pians, and forced him to proceed. Blindly 
 stumbling into pools and over the edge 
 of the path, he made but slow progress, 
 nor cared for the wet or the lateness of 
 the hour, his whole senses absorbed in the 
 recollection of what he had seen. 
 
 The chill grey dawn was lifting the 
 clouds in the east as he reached home ; 
 and entering quietly, he threw himself, 
 dressed as he was, on the bed, and slept 
 a feverish, unrefreshing sleep, till his 
 mother herself came to call him. She be- 
 gan to reproach him for his unseemly 
 state, but in the midst of her words she 
 saw that he was not heeding her one 
 whit, and with a disturbed mind she went 
 away. 
 
 When he rose it was evident that he 
 had caught a severe feverish cold, and
 
 150 THE minister's SON. 
 
 he yielded readily to her wish that he 
 should go to bed again. It was a good 
 excuse, and procured for him the solitude 
 he desired — a solitude in which he might 
 endeavour to attain to a more controlled 
 state of mind. 
 
 After two days he came down again, 
 and taking a chair by the fire, looked at 
 his mother and began the subject on which 
 he was most anxious for her sympathy. 
 
 " Mother," said he, " you will be ter- 
 ribly disappointed, I suppose, if I say I 
 cannot be a minister '? " 
 
 '' Disappointed is not the word : you 
 would break your father's heart." 
 
 "Tve not much fear of that, mother. 
 He would never forgive me, I know ; but 
 he is a man, and can bear things, — it is 
 of you that I am thinking/' 
 
 " Ronald, you don't mean that you are 
 really going to give up your work ? You're 
 not in earnest ? "
 
 BEYOXD HIS GRASP. 151 
 
 "Thoroughly in earnest, mother, and 
 pretty near determined." 
 
 "And pray what are you going to do, 
 then ? Supposing you fly in the face of 
 sense and Providence, how are you going 
 to get your living ? " 
 
 " That I don't know, but there must be 
 work for me somewhere. At the worst, I 
 could emigrate.'' 
 
 " Emigrate ! When you have had educa- 
 tion and opportunities given you at home, 
 you'd fling them all up, to go to some out- 
 of-the-way colony ? I always said no good 
 would come of your books of travels. Just 
 you see w^hat your father says to it ! " 
 
 "Then you won't give me the least sym- 
 pathy, or help me to persuade him— not 
 though I tell you I am not fit for the 
 ministry \ ''" 
 
 Mrs Bennett looked at her son for a 
 minute before she answered. 
 
 ''It's my belief that if a woman were
 
 152 THE minister's SON. 
 
 giving her life's blood for a man, drop by- 
 drop, lie'd still tell her that she had not 
 done enough." 
 
 Ronald made no reply. What did he know 
 of his mother's passionate affection for him, 
 her last-born, who came to fill her empty 
 house 1 What did he know of the resolve 
 that her child should be no idol, but should 
 be given to the church ? or of the tremb- 
 ling anxiety with which she had recognised 
 in him her own quick temper, strong feel- 
 ings, and ambition ? He only thought that 
 it was his life-blood, not hers, that was to 
 be spent, if he were doomed to a distaste- 
 ful existence. 
 
 That afternoon came a messenger from 
 the Hall, with a little note to Mrs Bennett. 
 
 ''Our long -talked -of theatricals are to 
 come off at last," it ran : " Thursday night is 
 fixed on, and I shall not have one minute 
 to spare, or I would call instead of writing,
 
 BEYOXD HIS GRASP. 153 
 
 to say that I shall be very much disap- 
 pointed if you and Eonald do not come. 
 I suppose papa is right in saying that Mr 
 Bennett would not join you, though I wish 
 he would. You should not be later than 
 eight, as I want you to get a *good place, 
 and there will be supper afterwards, when 
 I shall expect to hear your criticisms. Do 
 come, to please your affectionate 
 
 " Muriel." 
 
 " I'd like to see her act ; but it's out 
 of the question, Mr Bennett would never 
 allow it." 
 
 "Is that possible, mother? Does he ob- 
 ject even to private theatricals ? " 
 
 " An unwholesome thing is not the 
 wholesomer for being partaken of in pri- 
 vate," said Mr Bennett, who heard his 
 son's remark as he entered. 
 
 "And you think that there must be 
 something unwholesome in a play ? "
 
 154 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " I didn't say the play was necessarily 
 unwholesome, but the acting of it is." 
 
 '' In what way ? " 
 
 '' D'ye think it can be wholesome to see, 
 or to be one of a parcel of girls dressing 
 up, and thinking of their rouge, and their 
 clothes, and their speeches, and showing 
 themselves off, and very likely jealous of 
 each other's success ? '"' 
 
 " I should say it depended on the girls 
 themselves." 
 
 '* Is that what ye mean to teach — that 
 play-acting's a wise occupation for reason- 
 able women ? " asked Bennett, grimly ; but: 
 without waiting for a reply, he turned to 
 his wife and handed her the note, which 
 he had read. 
 
 " You'll tell her that you can't go," said 
 he. 
 
 " You might think it over to - night, 
 James. I'm sorry to vex her, and I should 
 like to go."
 
 BEYOXD HIS GRASP. 155 
 
 " No need to think it over, wife. It is 
 not a fitting thing." 
 
 '' I am going,'' said Eonald, very quietly. 
 
 '' You mean that ? " 
 
 " I do, father ; a man must stand or fall 
 by his own conscience, not another's." 
 
 " James ! James ! " cried Mrs Bennett, 
 who saw the stern look she dreaded gather- 
 ing on her husband's brow, *^come away 
 with me a moment ; let me speak to you 
 before you blame him, my dear ! " Link- 
 ing her hands round his arm, she led him 
 into his study, and then dropped upon a 
 chair and burst into tears. 
 
 She was spending her life-blood on this 
 afternoon, when she stood between the 
 two she loved, and strove to avert the 
 impending inevitable quarrel. 
 
 Strange to say, either her agitation, or 
 a sudden compunction on Bennett's part, or 
 a dim perception that he had been over- 
 severe, made him reluctantly consent that
 
 156 THE minister's son. 
 
 she should accompany Eonalcl to the 
 Hall. 
 
 She was really desirous of seeing the 
 theatricals, but she also wished to see her 
 son and Muriel together. They had met 
 now and again at the manse; but on 
 these occasions it was to her that the girl 
 chatted, and Eonald seldom spoke at all. 
 Perhaps under other circumstances it might 
 be different, and Muriel might innocently 
 be encouraging him in the madness which, 
 his mother feared, possessed him. If so, 
 she must warn her — must sacrifice her 
 visits, her gay intimacy, if need were, at 
 least until Eonald should be gone. 
 
 Eonald himself thought it more than 
 probable that his mother would, sooner 
 or later, discover his secret ; and the time 
 of discovery mattered little to him. He 
 looked forward to the performance with 
 mixed feelings : now longing for the mo- 
 ment to come when he might sit and
 
 BEYOND HIS GEASP. 157 
 
 watch without stint the face he loved ; 
 and aofain, steelino- himself to endure the 
 sight of Leslie playing, perhaps, a lover's 
 -psivt. In dreading this, however, he failed 
 to understand MurieFs delicate good taste : 
 it was indeed because of her fear of such 
 a contingency that the theatricals had been 
 deferred. 
 
 It had seemed natural at first that she 
 and Captain Leslie should be cast for the 
 parts of hero and heroine, as he was un- 
 doubtedly the best actor of the party ; 
 but when, in the quiet of her own room, 
 Muriel read over the play, and realised 
 that he would kneel at her feet and utter 
 those glowing words, which she had glanced 
 at so carelessly some days since, they 
 assumed a new aspect, and she knew that 
 it would be impossible for her to listen 
 to them. 
 
 It was not difficult, on one pretext or 
 another, to defer the play for a few days ;
 
 158 THE minister's son. 
 
 but when all excuses were wellnigli ex- 
 hausted, Leslie himself came to her assist- 
 ance. 
 
 " Do you know, I think we could arrange 
 our parts much better than we have done, 
 Miss Forbes," said he, snatching a moment 
 when no one was within hearing. "Mr 
 Tennant would play the young squire very 
 well, and I should greatly prefer the part 
 of the merchant. Would you like that 
 arrangement ? " 
 
 '' Oh yes ; I think it would really be 
 much better," said Muriel, in a tone of 
 relief. 
 
 Leslie bent a little over the book, as he 
 held it towards her : "I could not play 
 that part with you before an audience. 
 The play would cover too much earnest. '^ 
 
 Muriel's cheeks were glowing, but she 
 glanced up for a second, and he read her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, eagerly, '* why have
 
 BEYOND HIS GRASP. 159 
 
 you made so many difficulties about this 
 affair? Was it — forgive me if I am mis- 
 taken — was it because tbat part was 
 given to me ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " My queen ! This is neither the place 
 nor time for more ; I see the others coming. 
 Sit down and look over the book here," and 
 with a quick gesture he placed a chair 
 for her, and intercepting with some remark 
 the ladies who were coming towards them, 
 gave Muriel time to recover her composure. 
 
 An hour later, her father sent her to 
 the library to listen in happy earnest to 
 her lover ; and so it came about that he 
 did not appear in the character on that 
 Thursday night, when Eonald had expected 
 him to do so.
 
 160 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 
 
 Sir Duncan made some conditions in ad- 
 mitting Leslie's suit. The engagement was 
 not to be announced till after the theatri- 
 cals were over and the guests had departed, 
 and the marriage was not to take place till 
 after Muriel's next birthday. He began by 
 demanding longer grace, but Leslie and 
 Miss Alicia talked him over. 
 
 The latter was more than satisfied. Her 
 niece had won golden opinions everywhere, 
 and was justifying them fully by making a 
 brilliant marriage. Besides, it was likely 
 to be a happy one ; and Miss Alicia was 
 womanly enough to admit that she was
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 161 
 
 very glad it should be so. She was more 
 tender-hearted than of old ; and though 
 she would not have tolerated the idea of 
 a marriage made only for love, it was a 
 great thing when rank and fortune brought 
 love as part of the dower. 
 
 Of course the theatricals were a complete 
 success. There is nothing like genuine hap- 
 piness for developing unsuspected talents 
 and redoubling every power. Muriel acted 
 as she never would act again, and electri- 
 fied her audience by her spirit and pathos. 
 She was giving voice, in fact, to the new 
 feelings that had rushed into existence ; 
 and as the play happened to express much 
 of her own sentiment, she was carried away 
 by it as she never could have been but for 
 the event that had stirred her being to its 
 depths. 
 
 In one scene, in particular, she spoke 
 with dignified fervour. A lover, doubting 
 for a moment between the conflicting claims 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 THE minister's SON. 
 
 of love and duty, consults his lady as to the 
 course he should pursue. Turning upon 
 him with a voice of scorn, she exclaims — 
 
 " You ask me that, yet say you honour me ! 
 If I could bid you honour duty less 
 Than other men, I surely were myself 
 Dishonourable ! 
 
 Lover. Then you say a man 
 
 May waste his heart on duty's barren breast, 
 And love you after — but a little less ! 
 
 Lady. Who loves me more, but shames himself and me ! 
 To him who strives, who patiently achieves, 
 Who dares not sell his truth to win success. 
 To him I give — myself. To the poor soul 
 Who creeps through life, afraid of all the world, 
 Fawning upon it for its cheap, loud praise, 
 Traitor to truth and slave to every tongue, 
 I'd give 
 
 Lover. Well, say it. 
 
 Lady. Pity's scanty crumbs. 
 
 Fit for the craven that dare win no more ! " 
 
 The utter scorn of the closing lines, the 
 flashing eye, the proud mien of the speaker, 
 brought the house down, and the words and 
 look seemed to burn themselves in on 
 Konald's brain. 
 
 "Traitor to truth and slave to every
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 163 
 
 tongue ! " Was not that just his case ? or 
 rather, would it not be his case if he were 
 to yield blindly against every instinct of 
 nature and scruple of conscience to his 
 father's will ? Why, after hearing her 
 speak to-night, the tone of her voice would 
 never cease to haunt him were he to play 
 the craven's part. She had decided his 
 fate for him in uttering that speech, and 
 he would lose no time in telling his father 
 his determination. 
 
 Havino^ arrived at this conclusion durino^ 
 the brief space of time that elapsed between 
 the acts, he felt lighter -hearted, and at- 
 tended more genially to the rest of the 
 performance. Already a weight seemed 
 to be lifted off his shoulders, and his elastic 
 nature began to reassert itself. 
 
 Soon the play was over, and the guests, 
 leaving the extemporised theatre by a dif- 
 ferent door, moved into the long picture- 
 gallery, where the actors, still in costume,
 
 164 THE minister's SON. 
 
 joined them and received their congratula- 
 tions. Mrs Bennett, from a recess where 
 she had found a seat, saw Muriel's eyes 
 searching the crowd, and exchanged a 
 bright glance with her. As rapidly as she 
 could, the girl came forward. 
 
 *'Wel], mamsie, how good of you to 
 come ! Did you like it ? " 
 
 "My dear, I think it was charmingly 
 acted, and the piece is full of spirit. Every 
 one is praising you ! " 
 
 *' I hope you were pleased too, Eonald ?" 
 
 " I was much more than pleased. Miss 
 Forbes. I was going to ask if I might 
 have the play to read over 1 " 
 
 *^ Of course ; I will send it to-morrow. 
 Now come away to supper. There is to be 
 no formal arrangement." 
 
 '' Then may I take you in ? " said Ron- 
 ald quickly, offering his arm. 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry I can't ; I am en- 
 gaged," answered Muriel, with unusual want
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 165 
 
 of ease, and blushiog brightly; "but will 
 you take Miss Fraser V she added, as a 
 young lady came up to them on her father's 
 arm. " Dr Fraser will take you, mamsie." 
 
 While the elders exchanged cordial greet- 
 ings, for they were old acquaintances, Ron- 
 ald with a bad grace gave his arm to Miss 
 Fraser. All his touchy temper was aroused 
 at the thought that Muriel would not go 
 in to supper with him in the presence of 
 her grand friends ; nor was he much com- 
 forted by the light that dawned upon him 
 as he saw an actor, whose disguise he had 
 not penetrated, carry her off with an air 
 of appropriation. 
 
 " That is Captain Leslie ; isn't he well 
 disguised ? It was a good idea not putting 
 the real names on the programme ; it was 
 better fun finding people out. Isn't Cap- 
 tain Leslie looking well? He is very 
 handsome," said Miss Fraser. 
 
 *' Very," replied Ronald, drily ; and the
 
 166 THE MINISTERS SOX. 
 
 young lady found him but a taciturn com- 
 panion. 
 
 Next day Muriers own pony-carriage 
 came to the manse, with a note beofo^inoj 
 Mrs Bennett to drive up and hear some- 
 thing of importance ; and greatly wonder- 
 ing what the news could be, she put on 
 her bonnet and went. It was late when 
 she returned, and the traces of recent tears 
 in her eyes were hardly consistent with 
 her smiling expression. 
 
 *'Well, Tve great news for you both,'' 
 said she, entering the parlour where father 
 and son were sitting. '' I wonder if a man 
 ever could keep a good fire on his hearth. 
 I doubt it," she continued, stirring the coals 
 into a blaze. '^ Can you guess my news ? " 
 
 No need for one of the listeners to guess. 
 Konald knew it, and sat silent. 
 
 " Can a woman never speak out when she 
 has anything to tell?" said Bennett, smiling. 
 
 *' Muriel is engaged to Captain Leslie,
 
 ox THE bei:n'k of decision. 167 
 
 younger of Ardenshaugh. The marriage is 
 not to be for six months yet ; her father 
 thinks her too young. And he is terribly 
 vexed, he tells us, because Captain Leslie 
 won't leave the army ; and Muriel herself 
 does not wish it. She says no man shall 
 turn idler for her." 
 
 " Why can't he go home and attend to 
 his duties there, instead of following that 
 godless profession ? " inquired Bennett. 
 
 " Because his father won't allow him to 
 do anything on the place, Sir Duncan says. 
 But he — Sir Duncan, I mean — wants him 
 to settle at Inverallan ; he'd find plenty to 
 do there." 
 
 '* And he refuses '? " 
 
 " Only for the present. He wants to 
 become a major, I believe, or something of 
 that sort, before he gives up his profession. 
 A very pleasant and handsome young fel- 
 low he seems to be." 
 
 " Ay, wife ! It's wonderful how pleas-
 
 168 THE minister's SON. 
 
 ant and handsome a young man is always 
 accounted when he has just engaged him- 
 self to a girl." 
 
 *' Well, you shall judge for yourself, for 
 Muriel and he are coming to call to-morrow ; 
 and if you don't consider him good-looking, 
 I shall think little of vour taste." 
 
 '* When are they coming 1 " Was that 
 hollow voice Eonald's that spoke ? 
 
 "Between four and five," replied his 
 mother, without looking at him. She did 
 her best for him, poor mother : she never 
 allowed her anxious eyes to light upon him, 
 nor asked him to say a word of goodwill ; 
 and he was grateful to her for her tact. 
 
 One word she herself said, however, not 
 long before the visitors were expected — 
 *' You'll see Muriel and wish her joy, 
 Eonald, when she comes?" 
 
 " I will see her, mother," he answered, 
 shortly ; but she heard him leave the house 
 soon after four. He had only gone into
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 169 
 
 the garden, where he loitered, till, seeing 
 the two figures advancing, he met them 
 at the gate, and wrung Muriel's hand. 
 
 *'I wish you every happiness," he said, 
 in a low but steady voice. 
 
 " Thank you, Konald. You have met 
 Captain Leslie before, I know." 
 
 " Yes," replied Eonald, unable to refuse 
 the young man's proffered hand. "You 
 must excuse my turning back with you ; I 
 am obliged to go out this afternoon." 
 
 *' What a pity ! I thought you were sure 
 to be in, and I wanted you and Frank to 
 see each other. However, it can't be helped, 
 and you will have many opportunities of 
 meeting." 
 
 "Fewer than you think, perhaps," said 
 Eonald enigmatically, and lifting his cap, 
 passed out at the gate. 
 
 " What can he mean ? " said Muriel. 
 " How odd he is sometimes I I cannot 
 understand him."
 
 170 THE minister's SON. 
 
 '' I daresay not," replied Leslie. " I fancy 
 I know more about him than you do." 
 
 " You ! But youVe only seen him once 
 or twice." 
 
 '' True. I'll tell you about it by-and-by. 
 Here is Mr Bennett." 
 
 The minister was obliged to confess to 
 himself that his wife had by no means over- 
 praised the young soldier. He even forgot 
 for a while, in talking to him, that he was 
 a man of war ; and the subsequent half- 
 hour was pleasant to every one, for Leslie 
 had the good taste to appreciate Mrs Ben- 
 nett's old-fashioned courtesy, and Muriel 
 was happy in seeing those she loved mak- 
 ing friends. 
 
 It was strange that, though the visitors 
 stayed so long a time, Eonald did not come 
 in ; and as soon as they left, Muriel asked 
 Leslie to explain, as he had promised, the 
 remark he made on entering. 
 
 *' My darling, did it never occur to you
 
 ON THE BRIXK OF DECISION. 171 
 
 that that poor lad worships the very ground 
 you tread on ? " 
 
 " Oh, Frank, how dreadful ! Oh, it can't 
 be true ! " exclaimed Muriel, standing still 
 and blushing. 
 
 '' I am certain it is true. I saw it the 
 day we met him at the loch ; and, Muriel, I 
 am almost sure he was watching you from 
 behind a door at the Stirling ball. Don't 
 cry, darling ; it is no fault of yours, or of 
 his either." 
 
 '' But it seems so terribly unkind to make 
 an old friend — my dear mamsie's son, too 
 — unhappy. Oh dear, I am afraid you 
 are right ! I never dreamt of it, though I 
 thought him very odd and abrupt. Poor 
 dear Eonald ! Oh, Frank, I am so glad I 
 am going to Ardenshaugh to-morrow ! I 
 could not bear to see him again." 
 
 " I would not have told you, dear, if you 
 had not been going away. When you re- 
 turn, if he is here, you can see less of him.
 
 172 THE minister's son. 
 
 It will be better for him/' said Leslie, look- 
 ing into the sweet face that seemed to him 
 made to win love. 
 
 Even while the lovers were talking of 
 him, Ronald, from his place of concealment 
 in the little wood behind the village, had 
 seen them go, and had returned to the 
 house, seating himself in the parlour. With- 
 out any allusion to the visitors who had 
 just left, he plunged into the subject of his 
 own future, and announced his fixed deter- 
 mination to choose a profession for himself. 
 
 Mrs Bennett made no attempt now to 
 interpose between him and his father. The 
 storm she had foreseen and dreaded must 
 break at last, and she must endure it as 
 best she could. 
 
 Long and hotly did the old man argue, 
 but to all that he said his son made but one 
 reply — " My heart is not in it ; I should be 
 a traitor to truth were I to go on." 
 
 Such an answer should have appealed to
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 173 
 
 Bennett's sense of justice, but he was too 
 unused to opposition, too resolved on carry- 
 ing out his cherished scheme, to be open to 
 conviction ; and when he found that argu- 
 ment was of no avail, he launched into 
 reproaches, which stung Konald into rash 
 reply. 
 
 Then indeed Mrs Bennett strove to stem 
 the torrent of bitter words. 
 
 " Oh, hush, hush ! " she cried, " before you 
 say what you'll neither of you be able to 
 forget, though you try." 
 
 ''I shall never forget as it is, mother," 
 said Eon aid, harshly. 
 
 " I think you'll break my heart between 
 you," she exclaimed. '* James, he's but 
 young ; can you not be gentler to him ? 
 And oh, laddie, what blessing can go with 
 a life that begins in ill-will 1 " 
 
 " Can a blessing go with a lie, mother 1 " 
 
 ''No; I don't mean that you should go 
 against your own wish. I can't help it,
 
 174 THE minister's son. 
 
 James ; I've seen for years that the bairn 
 was not of the nature to take to the Kirk. 
 I hoped he'd change, but it wasn't to be." 
 
 ** Both against me ! Well, it is the lot 
 of some to stand alone. Take two days to 
 consider the matter, Eonald ; if you are 
 then of the same mind, you may go your 
 ways — I can do no more for you." So say- 
 ing, Bennett left the room. 
 
 " Could Sir Duncan help you to any 
 work?" began Mrs Bennett; but Eonald 
 interrupted her. 
 
 " If my father casts me off, I'll stand 
 alone. I'll not go to Sir Duncan to beg 
 for help, and have his daughter and her 
 lover talking over my affairs." 
 
 " And you'll add to our burden and care, 
 and lose a good chance of a settlement of 
 some sort, because of a bit of wilful pride. 
 You're not a man yet, Eonald ; you're just 
 a headstrong bairn ! " replied his mother, 
 indignantly.
 
 ox THE BRIXK OF DECISION. 175 
 
 There was little slumber at the manse 
 that night, but Eonald's was the soundest ; 
 he had the faith of youth in the future, and 
 felt himself all but free. Before he slept he 
 wrote a note to Muriel, in which, with an 
 apology for taking up her time, he pointed 
 out to her how her influence had told upon 
 him, how her words in the play had decided 
 him, and then begged her to give him her 
 opinion on his present conduct, and say if 
 she thought him justified in going against 
 his father. *' He and my mother both blame 
 me, though for diff'erent reasons ; and if my 
 old friend could give me a word of sym- 
 pathy, it would make things easier. I shall 
 be grateful if you will say nothing of my 
 difficulties to Sir Duncan ; I would rather 
 not be the cause of more discussion. Only 
 let me have your own views, and they will be 
 enough for me." Thus he wrote, and signed 
 himself, '' Yours faithfully always, E. B." 
 
 It was a foolish note, but he thought that
 
 176 THE minister's SON. 
 
 the answer to it would be a treasure that he 
 would fain bear away with him when the 
 terrible moment of parting should come ; 
 and in the heat of passion that thrilled him, 
 he was unaware of the force of his own 
 words. Had he re-read the letter in the 
 morning, he might have modified some of 
 its phrases ; but he was too confident to 
 have any doubts as to his own coolness or 
 sense, and closed the envelope after once 
 perusing the newly written contents. 
 
 Early the next morning, without men- 
 tioning his intention to his mother, he put 
 the note in his pocket, and set out to walk 
 by the nearest avenue to the Hall. As he 
 went, he thought dreamily over his short 
 past : the friendships and quarrels of the 
 village school ; the happy days when Muriel 
 stayed at the manse ; the rambles about the 
 hills; the deep glen in Dumyat, beyond 
 which the bare moor spread ; the black pool 
 of Jeira, where the trout lay hidden ; the
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 177 
 
 birctieii copse and bracken-covered braes, 
 where he had lain for many a truant hour 
 listening to the wild cry of the grouse, and 
 watching the windy white clouds scud across 
 the blue sky. 
 
 He loved every rock and knowe of the 
 broad hill, from the grey "screes" where the 
 yellow mullein flowered, to the bare crest 
 from which he could gaze over rich plain 
 and silver Forth, away to the more distant 
 Highland mountains. And everywhere about 
 the place, mingling with every association, 
 came the name of Muriel : every boyish 
 adventure had been told to her; in every 
 homely pleasure she had shared ; with her 
 he had talked over ambitions, dreams, and 
 treasured tales ; and this happy intercourse 
 had lasted without flaw or break until her 
 aunt came. Since then, though he had been 
 deprived of her companionship, he had only 
 thought of her the more ; each of his famil- 
 iar haunts had become the home of sweet 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 THE minister's SON. 
 
 fancies, in which she reigned supreme. At 
 college, when he left town and sought the 
 slopes of the Braid Hills, or the . crest of 
 Arthur's Seat, from which his own dear 
 chills could be seen, every fresh breeze and 
 fair flower and song of bird uttered to him 
 the name of Muriel ; and when love of 
 country and love of woman are thus closely 
 twined together, they form a passion that 
 may last a lifetime — such a passion as lies 
 hidden away among sacred memories in a 
 man's heart, even though another woman 
 should bear his name, and her children cling 
 about his knee. 
 
 He had reached a turn in the Inverallan 
 avenue, where a road leading to the back 
 entrance branched off, when, glancing 
 towards the house, he saw that several 
 figures were standing on the lawn inspect- 
 ing some young horses which were being 
 trotted up and down. He could distinguish 
 Muriel and her father, and he thought it
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 179 
 
 was Captain Leslie who stepped forward 
 and mounted a restive animal that had 
 proved too much for the groom. He could 
 not go on there and himself present his 
 note, nor did he care to face strangers ; he 
 would go by the other road, and give it to 
 a servant. 
 
 As he entered the courtyard, he met Mrs 
 Simpson on her way to the dairy. 
 
 " Mr Eonald ! Were you seeking any 
 one ? The gentry's all out on the lawn 
 there, with the wild horses the Captain's 
 brought." The housekeeper spoke almost 
 suspiciously. What should this young man 
 be coming round there for, she wondered. 
 
 *' I saw there were visitors, Mrs Simp- 
 son, and did not care to stop and see them. 
 I only want to leave this note for Miss 
 Forbes, — I am anxious she should have 
 it to-day," said Eonald, with the anxiety 
 very visible on his face. '' Perhaps you 
 will see to it. You might give it to her
 
 180 THE minister's SON. 
 
 when she is disengaged," he added, hesitat- 
 ingly. He did not like to say, " when she 
 is alone.'' 
 
 "Yes, I'll take charge of it," she replied, 
 and Konald returned as he had come. 
 
 " What can he be wanting, writing to Miss 
 Muriel, I'd like to know," thought Mrs Simp- 
 son, dropping the note into a capacious 
 pocket. " She's enough to attend to with- 
 out being troubled wi' the likes o' him ; and 
 she's going off, too, in an hour." 
 
 There are accidents into which it is as 
 well never to inquire too curiously. Human 
 nature is strangely sly, even in communing 
 with itself. Mrs Simpson did not distinctly 
 say to herself that she would not deliver 
 the note — that would have been a breach 
 of duty: but she could send it up a little 
 later, when the horses were gone, and the 
 ladies should have come in, and Miss Muriel 
 should be disengaged; and meantime, though 
 the footmen w^ere close at hand in the pan-
 
 ON THE BRINK OF DECISION. 181 
 
 try to carry it, her pocket was a safe place 
 to put it in. 
 
 It was late before the horses were sent 
 round ; luncheon had to be eaten hurriedly 
 and last orders given ; the carriage was at 
 the door, and the whole party set off for 
 Ardenshaugh only just in time to catch 
 their train. 
 
 The note was not delivered before they 
 left, and was thereafter genuinely forgotten. 
 Mrs Simpson had much to see to in her 
 master's absence. Certain changes were to 
 be made in the house : she put on a com- 
 moner dress next day, and Eonald's note 
 remained in the pocket of the one she hung 
 up in her closet.
 
 182 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 
 
 EoNALD waited patiently, longingly, won- 
 deringly, at last angrily, for the reply to 
 his letter that never came. 
 
 Was this the end of Muriel's friendship ? 
 Could she not spare time or attention to 
 enable her to write him one kindly word *? 
 Could she not sympathise with him in his 
 trouble, or was she perchance angry be- 
 cause he had told her that he owed so much 
 to her influence ? Had that touched her 
 pride ? Oh, that could hardly be ! Perhaps 
 it was Leslie's doing — he might have seen 
 Eonald's letter, and forbidden her to reply.
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 183 
 
 Well, whatever the cause, it was clear that 
 he would ask for neither help nor sympathy 
 again. He must, as he had said, stand or 
 fall alone. 
 
 The two days' grace his father had ac- 
 corded him had elapsed. Bennett had stern- 
 ly determined that the backslider must be 
 admonished, all the more faithfully since 
 he was his own son ; and he did not spare 
 to carry out his determination. Eonald 
 listened doggedly to the admonition, which, 
 while it exposed his weakness, his want of 
 faith, his obstinacy, his unfilial self-will, 
 showed also that his father failed to under- 
 stand either his scruples or his regrets. He 
 made no attempt to reply ; but he kissed 
 his mother fondly as he bade her good- 
 night, and before day broke he was on his 
 road to Edinburgh. 
 
 There was a sound in the manse of. " an 
 exceeding bitter cry " when, led by some 
 secret uneasiness early to his room, his
 
 184 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 mother saw the untouched bed and realised 
 that he had fled from his home. 
 
 Never in their previous sorrows had her 
 husband seen her give way to such vehe- 
 ment grief ; and w^ith her wailing fresh in 
 his ears, he hurried to make all possible 
 inquiries, and though he struggled to keep 
 up a show of sternness, his self-confidence 
 was, in truth, somewhat rudely shaken. 
 
 He could obtain no clue to the secret of 
 his son's flight. Knowing every short cut 
 well, Eonald had avoided the neighbour- 
 ing railway stations, and had walked a 
 considerable distance before he took a Fife 
 train, and so crossed the ferry to Edinburgh. 
 
 All trace of him was completely lost, and 
 ugly fears were whispered about as to his 
 safety. Meanwhile, in the town he had many 
 a narrow escape of recognition; but by care- 
 fully avoiding the streets and hours in which 
 he was most likely to meet his friends, he 
 did escape, and soon his appearance was so
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 185 
 
 altered that a careless passer-by would not 
 have known him. 
 
 "Who has not heard of the pitiful 
 struggles, the bitter disappointments, that 
 await the needy who have no recommenda- 
 tion but their need, and no companion but 
 their hunger ? It is so terribly easy for a 
 hot-headed boy to slip out of his place in 
 the world, so easy to baffle pursuit, so easy 
 to secure oblivion, except at some one fire- 
 side ; but having slipped away in search 
 of freedom and a living, the first seems 
 often purchasable only at the price of the 
 last. 
 
 Eonald had a small sum of money be- 
 longing to him. Lady Forbes had pre- 
 sented him, in his babyhood, with a note, 
 which had been accumulatinp: for him in 
 the bank ever since ; but the deposit -re- 
 ceipt was at the manse, and he would not 
 write for it — to do so would be to confess 
 himself beaten : and so, with some pounds
 
 186 THE minister's SON. 
 
 lying in his name at Tillybodle, he often 
 lacked a meal in Edinburgh. His mother, 
 who steadily refused to believe that harm 
 had befallen him, trusted that before long 
 he would claim this very receipt ; but she did 
 not guess the extent of his obstinate pride. 
 
 Sometimes he earned a few shillings by 
 copying; once he was paid for an article 
 in the old debating-club style, which he 
 took to a second-rate paper. But precari- 
 ous work would not do, and no one would 
 take a clerk without a single reference of 
 any kind, nor even a respectable home 
 address. 
 
 Ronald sank lower as day by day went 
 hopelessly by. He grew more slovenly, 
 less active in searching for work, and would 
 even earn a stray sixpence by taking a 
 message, and spend more of it on whisky 
 than on food, loitering afterwards about the 
 doors of the public-house. 
 
 Of his mother he thought as little as
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 187 
 
 possible, striving to ignore her pain, and 
 nourishing his pride by dwelling on his 
 father's harsh and stern ways. Sometimes 
 he wondered if he should emigrate, but the 
 old craving for adventure was gone. He 
 had no money, and the prospect of working 
 his way out was far less delightful when 
 seen near at hand than when dreamt of at 
 the manse fireside. A strange listlessness 
 and disinclination for exertion oppressed 
 him and made him shrink from any such 
 decisive step. Poor lad ! he did not know 
 that want of food was rapidly telling on 
 his young strength. 
 
 It was time, full time, that he should be 
 saved, if saved he were to be, from losing 
 himself altogether. Eescue came in the 
 shape of a recruiting-sergeant, whose quick 
 eye observed the broad shoulders of the 
 youth who slouched in to get a glass at 
 mid-day, eating hungrily the while a hunch 
 of stale bread.
 
 THE minister's SON. 
 
 "You'd fare better than that with us, 
 my lad/' said he. " A fellow like you had 
 better be serving the Queen than earning 
 chance pennies in the street." 
 
 Eonald laughed. "I suppose I'm good 
 enough to be food for powder at least, 
 though for nothing else." 
 
 *'You may do a good deal worse than 
 take the shilling, young man. You speak 
 as though you'd had education, — if you 
 have, you'll soon get on." 
 
 '* Get on to what, sergeant ? Can you 
 show me chapter and verse now ? — I don't 
 want any recruiting stories," said Konald. 
 
 "I wouldn't try any on you," said the 
 sergeant, who saw that this was not exactly 
 a common recruit, and he proceeded to give 
 a sufficiently business - like account of a 
 soldier's prospects. 
 
 Konald listened without evincing much 
 interest, except when the man spoke of the 
 chances of promotion. "Why, our own
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 189 
 
 colonel rose from the ranks," said he ; " and 
 what one man has done, another may do." 
 
 At this Ronald's eyes flashed, and with 
 barely a moment's pause for reflection, he 
 threw his cap on to the table : " On with 
 your ribbons, then ; I may as well try 
 soldiering — it'll be a change, anyhow ! " 
 
 If the sergeant smiled at the phrase, Ron- 
 ald did not observe it, and as he walked 
 away, he hardly realised that he had bound 
 himself without power to change. 
 
 A very few days of his new life recalled 
 him to something of his former self : good 
 food, clean quarters, and regular hours re- 
 stored his body and his mind, and he shud- 
 dered as he thought of the depths to which 
 he had sunk during the short time that had 
 elapsed since he left home. He even deter- 
 mined that he would write and tell his 
 mother of the step he had taken ; but again 
 the remembrance of his father's angry scorn 
 made him pause, and while he hesitated he
 
 190 THE minister's SON. 
 
 was recognised by a gentleman who, as lie 
 passed up to the Castle, glanced with a pro- 
 fessional eye at the squad of recruits en- 
 gaged in the mysteries of the balance-step. 
 
 Inquiry satisfied him of the correctness 
 of his surmise, and he left Edinburgh in 
 consequence by an early train. 
 
 "Muriel, I have found your missing 
 man,'' said he, as he entered the drawing- 
 room at Ardenshaugh. 
 
 '*0h, Frank! where? What has he 
 been doing 1 " she exclaimed, while Sir 
 Duncan looked up from his book. 
 
 "That I don't know, but he is now a 
 private in the 2d Highlanders. I saw him 
 drilling at the Castle." 
 
 *' Enlisted I How angry his father will 
 be ! and oh, what a blow for poor Mrs 
 Bennett ! " 
 
 " I thought he'd do that," said Sir Dun- 
 can. " He'll make a capital soldier — the 
 life will just suit him."
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 191 
 
 " But, papa, a private soldier's is hardly 
 the position one expected for him — with 
 his education, too. Oh dear, Tm sorry ! " 
 
 "He could scarcely afford to be an 
 officer," said Leslie. 
 
 "No, of course not, though it is very 
 wrong that that should be so, Frank. But 
 can't we find anything better for him than 
 to be a private ? Can't we buy him off? " 
 
 The result of this conversation was, that 
 a telegram was sent at once to the manse, 
 and was followed next day by Sir Duncan 
 in person. What passed there surprised 
 even him, well as he knew the pride and 
 reserve of the couple with whom he had 
 to deal. 
 
 At the news of his son's bodily safety 
 Mr Bennett recovered his composure, and 
 launched into invectives against the pro- 
 fession, which, as he said, Eonald must 
 have known that he disapproved and con- 
 demned.
 
 192 THE minister's SON. 
 
 The mother, shaken as she was by grief 
 and anxiety, shed fresh tears of joy on 
 hearing that her boy was found, but sided 
 so far with her husband, that she thought 
 Eonald was lowering himself utterly by 
 enlisting in the ranks. "He might have 
 avoided that, at least," she said, " knowing 
 his father's views." 
 
 That he should be bought off appeared 
 to be the only course open to them ; and 
 Sir Duncan offered to use his interest with 
 a friend in Texas, and endeavour in that 
 way to get him congenial employment on 
 a cattle-ranch. 
 
 "You'll never tie that boy to desk or 
 books," said he ; " he's made for action, 
 and he must have it." 
 
 Having come at last, and after a long 
 discussion, to these conclusions. Sir Duncan 
 went to Edinburgh and saw the colonel of 
 the regiment, to whom he confided Ronald's 
 story.
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 193 
 
 '' There's the making of a good soldier in 
 him," said he, "if he can submit to dis- 
 cipline. I suppose he has never had much 
 of it anywhere '? '' 
 
 "No; his father was too severe and 
 harsh, and that produced the usual results." 
 
 " Exactly. Well, he has been in trouble 
 already, and unless he turns over a new 
 leaf, of course we can do nothing for him. 
 You had better use your influence with 
 him, and either get him to take his dis- 
 charge, or keep straight. I'll send him to 
 you, and leave you to talk it over." 
 
 Private Bennett having been desired to 
 go to the Colonel's quarters, entered the 
 room with a certain expectation of recogni- 
 tion in some shape or other, but was un- 
 prepared to find himself face to face with 
 Sir Duncan. He would have retreated, but 
 his old friend grasped him by the hand, and 
 he could not resolve to turn away from his 
 cordial greeting. Why, indeed, should he ? 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 THE MINISTEE's SON. 
 
 He would, and could, stand his ground 
 now. 
 
 " Well, Konald, I am heartily glad to see 
 you," began Sir Duncan ; " I have been very 
 anxious about you, my boy." 
 
 '' Have you, Sir Duncan "? You have 
 always been a good friend to me," answered 
 Eonald. 
 
 '* I have meant to be so, at least. Now 
 I have come in on purpose to see you, and 
 talk matters over with you." 
 
 " As my father's friend, or mine ^ " asked 
 Eonald, sharply. 
 
 " First of all, as yours. I have a message 
 for you besides." 
 
 " How did you find me out 1 " 
 
 '' Leslie saw you yesterday on the parade. 
 He fancied you might not like to be recog- 
 nised by a comparative stranger, though I 
 cannot quite see why, as lie is one of our 
 family, as it were. He came at once back 
 to Ardenshaugh. I wired to your mother,
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 195 
 
 went to see lier this morning, and here I 
 am ! " 
 
 " You have taken a great deal of trouble 
 about me, Sir Duncan," replied Konald, in 
 the same stiff tone as before. 
 
 " Good heavens, Eonald ! what has come 
 to you ? You speak almost as if I were a 
 slight acquaintance, who could hardly be 
 expected to care what became of you I 
 Have we deserved that at your hands ? 
 I think our constant friendship for your 
 mother is sufficient guarantee of the interest 
 we take in you." 
 
 *^ As I said, the interest you take, Sir 
 Duncan, has stood the test of time, and I 
 am grateful for it." 
 
 Sir Duncan looked puzzled, as well 
 he might, and somewhat annoyed. " I do 
 not understand your emphasis ; but let that 
 pass," he replied, — '' we had better come to 
 business. Do you like your new profession 
 well enouo'h to remain in it 1 "
 
 196 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " It will feed and clothe me as well as 
 any other," returned Konald, doggedly. 
 
 '' Then, of course, you have no intention 
 of getting on in it ; you mean to remain an 
 ordinary private always ? " 
 
 " That's as may be." 
 
 " It is as you choose, you mean. I con- 
 fess, Ronald, I am near being disappointed 
 in you. I never thought you would recon- 
 cile yourself to being a clergyman. I saw 
 that your bent was in quite another direc- 
 tion, and I advised the army for you long 
 ago." 
 
 " Did you indeed ? " said Ronald, look- 
 ing up. 
 
 *' I did ; but your father would not hear 
 of it. Now I will say this, — I do not think 
 myself free from reproach concerning you ; 
 for though it is true I had no grounds for 
 interference, I might have sought out some 
 better position for you, and offered it to 
 your father, seeing as I did that you were
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 197 
 
 by nature unfitted for tlie Kirk. On the 
 other hand, my boy, I did not think that 
 when the matter had to be decided, you 
 would have run away without one attempt 
 to consult me, or odc hint that you needed 
 help. It was not kindly done, Eonald." 
 
 ** No, Sir Duncan, it was not ; but I think 
 I have been madman or fool, or both," said 
 Ronald, in a low voice. As he sat here 
 now in his coarse white jacket, and recol- 
 lected that if an officer were to come 
 in, he must get up and, before his old 
 friend, salute and say " Sir," he realised 
 keenly what a blunder he had made, and 
 at that moment would have given any 
 treasure to be free again. Still, as the 
 conversation went on, he could not bring 
 himself to accept Sir Duncan's ofi"er to buy 
 him ofi" : he felt as though such an admis- 
 sion of error would destroy his self-respect ; 
 for how could he bear to receive help from 
 MurieFs father? He promised, indeed, to
 
 198 THE minister's SON. 
 
 write to his mother, but he begged that she 
 would not come to see him, at least for the 
 present. 
 
 To his father he would send no message ; 
 nor indeed did Sir Duncan wonder, for Mr 
 Bennett had refused to contribute in any 
 way to his son's maintenance if he left the 
 army, nor would he even assist him to do 
 so. " He has made his bed, and he must 
 lie on it," said he, and altogether declined 
 to listen to Sir Duncan's proposals of a 
 compromise. 
 
 '* These short -service rules will benefit 
 you, at least," said Sir Duncan; ''you will 
 be very young still at the end of six years 
 — young enough to start afresh in another 
 line if you like; but you must let me remind 
 you that it is for you to determine what 
 position you are to occupy when that time 
 comes. If you, with your educational ad- 
 vantages, do not rise, you will most unmis- 
 takably have fallen."
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 199 
 
 " You will say of me as you once did of 
 Jamie Paterson, * Gone wrong for want of 
 spirit enough to do right/ I suppose you 
 hare been told of all my delinquencies 
 by the Colonel '? " said Eonald, with an air 
 of somethino' like defiance, thouo-h he 
 had softened visibly during the previous 
 conversation. 
 
 Sir Duncan repeated what the Colonel 
 had said, adding, " No doubt it is hard for 
 you to submit at once to your change of 
 position ; but if you are not man enough 
 to do your duty, you are not the man T 
 thought you would be." 
 
 "You always put things in such a way 
 as to enlist me on your side. Sir Duncan. 
 It is hard to be perfectly submissive and 
 deferential to a seroreant who is an ill-tem- 
 pered brute, or to a simpering sub-lieuten- 
 ant who looks like a schoolboy.'' 
 
 " You're hardly more yourself, Eonald.'-' 
 
 " Quite true, but I have gone through
 
 200 THE minister's SON. 
 
 more than the young gentleman of whom I 
 am speaking. However, Sir Duncan, you 
 have shown me real kindness to-day, 
 and I will try to prove that it is not mis- 
 placed. Tell my mother so ; it is the best 
 message I can send her." 
 
 " I will, my dear boy. And I hope you 
 will let me have a line to say how you are 
 getting on." 
 
 '' Letters to be signed ' Private,' Sir Dun- 
 can ; you never had a correspondent of my 
 rank before ! " 
 
 " ' The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
 The man's the gowd for a' that/ " 
 
 replied Sir Duncan, quoting, as his daugh- 
 ter had done, one of the most truly national 
 of Scottish songs. 
 
 After some further conversation he left 
 the Castle, by no means easy as to Ronald's 
 future, but still hoping that he might 
 turn over a new leaf, and that discipline 
 might train and improve him.
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 201 
 
 It was late that evening when he reached 
 Ardenshaugh, and while waiting for dinner 
 he spoke of the results of his visit. 
 
 " Bennett won't be bought off, at least by 
 me. Tm not sure but what he would have 
 consented, if his father would even have 
 shared the expense instead of washing his 
 hands of the whole affair. He's as proud 
 as Lucifer." 
 
 " I think the better of him for sticking 
 to the profession, now that he has chosen 
 it," said Leslie. 
 
 A faint jingle of bangles indicated that 
 Miss Forbes was raising her hands in sur- 
 prise and horror. 
 
 ^' My dear Frank ! how can you think 
 the better of the poor fellow for being a 
 rough common soldier ? Such a good-look- 
 ing lad, too, and with some cleverness." 
 
 "Are good looks and cleverness so in- 
 appropriate in a soldier, aunt Alicia ? " asked 
 Leslie, with gravity.
 
 202 THE MINISTEe's son. 
 
 " Ah; you inean an officer, but this boy 
 is a mere soldier ; it is a dreadful pity," said 
 Miss Forbes, who had changed her opinion 
 of Eonald since Muriel's engagement. 
 
 " I confess I don t agree with you," re- 
 plied Leslie. ''He need not remain a 
 private ; and I can tell you, there are ser- 
 geants in my regiment whose education 
 and manners are better than those of many 
 men one meets. Take your ponderous 
 neighbour, Hardwicke, for example ; give his 
 fortune to one of these men, and they'd be 
 ten times better company, and, thanks to 
 their training, would look like gentlemen, 
 which he never will" 
 
 'Tor the best of reasons, that he is not 
 one by birth," said Miss Forbes, ignoring 
 the rest of Leslie's argument. 
 
 '' Nor altogether by nature, — you should 
 add that, aunt Alicia," said Muriel. '' Poor 
 Mr Hardwicke is so good-uatured and well- 
 meaning that one can't help liking him; but
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 203 
 
 'he is always wanting in little points of 
 taste and manners that he cannot master, 
 in spite of his twenty thousand a-year." 
 
 " Quite true, Muriel," said Sir Duncan ; 
 " and I have always said that Eonald 
 Bennett was a gentleman at heart, — a gen- 
 tleman, you may say, by instinct. I fear he 
 has lost himself a good deal of late, but I 
 have faith in his recovering himself too. 
 By the by, have you done anything to 
 make him feel himself aggrieved, Muriel 1 " 
 
 " I ! No, papa — nothing whatever." 
 
 " It is very odd ; there is something in 
 his mind that makes him touchy about you. 
 He seemed to fancy that you took no inter- 
 est in him — he said as much, in fact; but 
 of course I did not discuss the matter." 
 
 " How extraordinary!" said Muriel, blush- 
 ing, however, so much, that her father 
 fancied there must be something, some 
 mistake perhaps, on the young man's part, 
 that she did not wish to mention. In
 
 204 THE minister's SON. 
 
 truth, she was thinking of Leslie's surmise, 
 and imagined that the strangeness of Eon- 
 aid's manner confirmed it. She was un- 
 feignedly glad to hear of him, and deeply 
 interested in his career, for it seemed to her 
 pitying heart that she might have unwit- 
 tingly helped to drive him away, and in the 
 fulness of her own happiness she grieved 
 for his wasted love. 
 
 *' Frank, shall I write to that poor fellow, 
 — just a kind note, you know ? I should not 
 like him even to fancy that I thought less 
 of him," said she, when alone with Leslie. 
 
 He reflected a moment before answering. 
 He was hardly great enough to be on a 
 level with Muriel's generous impulses. 
 
 " I think not," he replied. "He has chosen 
 an inferior position, and I would rather you 
 did not write to him, unless it were more 
 necessary than it seems to be. Send him a 
 message through his mother, when you go 
 home."
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 205 
 
 ' " Very well, dear," replied the girl ; but 
 though she said no more, Leslie felt that 
 she was disappointed, and regretting that it 
 should be so, did not think more kindly of 
 the boy, whose name had more than once 
 cast a shadow, light as gauze, across his 
 bliss. That bliss was indeed so great that 
 he, like Muriel, sometimes wondered how 
 long it could continue. 
 
 The time of grace demanded by Sir Dun- 
 can before parting with his daughter had 
 almost elapsed. In a couple of months Muriel 
 would be eighteen, and as soon after that as 
 the lawyers and dressmakers would allow, 
 she would be Leslie's wife. 
 
 The more he saw of her, the better he 
 appreciated the limpid purity and bright- 
 ness of her nature. He had yet to learn its 
 depth and strength and courage, when tried 
 in circumstances less sunny than those in 
 which she now lived. 
 
 With aunt Alicia, as he already called
 
 206 THE minister's son. 
 
 Miss Forbes, he was on excellent terms. If 
 lie smiled good-humouredly at her elabor- 
 ate attire, and was not too impatient of her 
 talk, it was because he often sympathised 
 with her conclusions, even when he was 
 well aware of the absurdity of her reason- 
 ings. He had, in a modified degree, her 
 faith in good birth and good breeding ; but 
 whereas she, womanlike, could not endure 
 that any one should say she had done, 
 said, or worn an incorrect thing, he con- 
 sidered that birth and breeding could only 
 strengthen the reasonable independence that 
 should make a man fearless of common- 
 place criticism. 
 
 Aunt Alicia was frequently puzzled by 
 the apparent inconsistencies of his views, 
 and never could understand why, while he 
 equalled her in his love of family history 
 and relics, he laughed at her two favourite 
 arguments, " Other people always do it," 
 and " AVhat will people sayl''
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 207 
 
 On one point Sir Duncan himself wished 
 that his future son-in-law had been more 
 accessible to the influence of general opinion. 
 People undoubtedly did say a great deal 
 when they were informed that the heir and 
 heiress of Ardeashaugh and Inverallan were 
 to spend the first year or two of their 
 married life with a marching regiment. 
 
 How could Sir Duncan allow such a 
 thing ? Why did he not forbid the mar- 
 riage, unless Captain Leslie came to his 
 senses ? Had there been any quarrel be- 
 tween old Ardenshaugh and his son ? Ah ! 
 perhaps that was the reason ; but then, why 
 should not the young people live at Inver- 
 allan ? Et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera. 
 
 Do we not all know how the tongues are 
 loosed, and the secret ill-humours of human 
 nature come out, when some one has laid 
 him or her self open to criticism? and if there 
 are two sinners to be canvassed, naturally 
 the excitement is redoubled. What won-
 
 208 THE minister's SON. 
 
 derful suggestions, betraying the quality of 
 the speaker's own mind, what subdued re- 
 joicing over the fallibility of a neighbour, 
 what heedless judgments founded on what 
 complete ignorance, do we hear ! 
 
 Leslie listened to the expostulations, some- 
 what softened as they were for his ear, and 
 answered them as he answered Sir Duncan's 
 graver entreaties. 
 
 " I love my profession, and I do not want 
 to give it up unless wath a distinct prospect 
 of other occupation. My father will give 
 me none. You would give it me, Sir Dun- 
 can ; but you know you are as hale and 
 strong as ever, and do not in the least 
 require my help in managing your estate. 
 My work with you would be a mere name. 
 Muriel need have none of the discomforts 
 of a soldier's life, for money can do away 
 with them all, and not even for her can 
 I turn myself into a complete idler." 
 
 No one applauded this resolve more heart-
 
 THE DIE IS CAST. 209 
 
 ily than Muriel herself, and she declared 
 that a wandering life would have great 
 charms for her, at least for some time to 
 come. She had been such a stay-at-home, 
 that change would be pleasant, and she 
 looked forward to spending the following- 
 winter under the sunny skies of Malta. 
 
 This being decided, the gossips were 
 forced to acquiesce, but they consoled them- 
 selves in their natural fashion by crediting 
 the young people with all those peculiarities 
 which after a fruitful discussion are usually 
 summarised as "so extremely odd." 
 
 VOL I.
 
 210 
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 ''woo'd an' married an' a'." 
 
 It wanted but a week of the marriage, 
 when Mrs Simpson, over- anxious perhaps 
 about the coming festivities, was seized 
 with a fainting - fit, which lasted suffi- 
 ciently long to be alarming. In the 
 weakness of recovery, she fancied herself 
 worse than was the case, and begged 
 that Miss Muriel might come to her at 
 once. She, who was already in the room, 
 stooped over the bed, and asked what 
 she could do. 
 
 ''In that drawer, my dear — the little 
 one — a note — I'm sorry now — I hope I've
 
 ''woo'd an' married an' a\'\ 211 
 
 done no harm," gasped the poor woman, 
 conscience-smitten. 
 
 Muriel opened the drawer, hoping to 
 find a clue to the meaning of these 
 broken sentences, and after some search- 
 ing, discovered at the back, hidden under 
 ribbons and remnants of work, Eonald's 
 undelivered letter to herself. 
 
 Somewhat startled, she hastened to show 
 it to the housekeeper, and a look of relief 
 came into her tired eyes. Poor soul ! her 
 little sin had weighed heavily on her ; 
 but she had been too proud to confess it, 
 though ever since EonakVs disappearance, 
 his anxious face when he brought his let- 
 ter had haunted her unwilling memory. 
 
 Up-stairs in the library Muriel read the 
 note, and handed it to her father with 
 an exclamation of distress. 
 
 " Oh, papa, no wonder Eonald thought 
 me unkind ! How he must have blamed 
 me for never answering this ! I must
 
 212 THE minister's SON. 
 
 write to him now and explain it, — don't 
 you think so ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. Poor boy ! he 
 was singularly unfortunate, just when he 
 needed encouragement and help ; every- 
 thing seemed to be against him. Write 
 to him, Muriel, and I will add a line." 
 
 And Muriel wrote simply and gener- 
 ously, as to her old playmate, setting 
 aside with womanly courage all conscious- 
 ness that this man had loved her, and 
 had in this very letter quite unwittingly 
 betrayed his love. 
 
 She left her note unfolded on the table, 
 and her father read it, and looked into 
 her clear eyes and kissed her, — " That is 
 well written, my darling," said he, and 
 added a few words on the same sheet. 
 It was he who addressed the note, and 
 the reply came to him by return of post. 
 
 "Tell your daughter that I thank her 
 with all my heart for her letter, and wish
 
 "woo'd ax' married ax' a." 213 
 
 her every good thing that life can give. 
 May her wedding-day be as happy as she 
 deserves that it should be." 
 
 This was all ; then the writer pro- 
 ceeded to tell Sir Duncan that he was 
 getting on excellently, and looking forward 
 to rapid promotion. 
 
 Father and daughter read the letter to- 
 gether, and then Sir Duncan burnt it ; nor 
 did either of them allude to the subject 
 again. They kept an honourable silence 
 these two, even between themselves, over 
 the boy's wild romance ; nor did Muriel 
 tell Leslie the incident of the missinsf 
 note and subsequent correspondence. It 
 was the only thing she ever hid from 
 him. 
 
 The wedding-day was as bright and 
 fair as bride could wish, and in every 
 villao;e and farm in the neio^hbourhood 
 there was a stir of excitement and pre- 
 paration. Muriel had determined that
 
 214 THE minister's son. 
 
 there should be comparatively little en- 
 tertainment beyond the breakfast for her 
 own guests, but that everybody connected 
 in any way with the estate should be 
 feasted either on that or the succeeding 
 days. So tents were spread, and bands 
 engaged, and ample fare provided, and 
 the guests came with cordial feelings to 
 the feast, for Sir Duncan and his daughter 
 were as much beloved as they were widely 
 known. 
 
 The house and park at Inverallan were 
 well suited for such festivities. The for- 
 mer was an irregular pile of building to 
 which successive owners had made addi- 
 tions, each according to the fancy of the 
 time, without paying much regard to the 
 appearance of the entire mass. The result 
 was more pleasing to the eye of an artist 
 than to that of an architect ; but if the 
 interior arrangements were somewhat per- 
 plexing when domestic labours had to be
 
 "woo'd an* married ax' a'." 215 
 
 considered, still neither Sir Duncan nor 
 his daughter would have altered a single 
 quaintly planned passage, nor have levelled 
 an unexpected step, that was to them a 
 thought of one of their ancestors written 
 in stone. 
 
 Sir Duncan himself had made but a 
 single addition ; he had enlarged and 
 lengthened a room known before his time 
 as the picture-room, but now as the picture- 
 gallery, and had largely increased its con- 
 tents. This gallery formed one side of a 
 square, at the opposite side of which was 
 the oldest part of the hall, a tower, whose 
 main room on the ground -floor formed 
 the library, while the small turrets at the 
 corners were the delight of all children 
 who visited them. From their narrow 
 windows exquisite views could be obtained 
 of the winding Forth, the picturesque rock 
 of Stirling, the level lines of the Campsie 
 Hills, and the distant mountains whose blue
 
 216 THE MINISTEe's SON. 
 
 crests rose above tliat region of romance 
 where loch and glen, islet and copse, are 
 celebrated, either by the pen of our great 
 novelist, or by the sterner traditions of 
 Highland life. 
 
 The park was not less fine in its way 
 than the house of Inverallan. There huo^e 
 sycamores spread their masses of dark 
 foliage side by side with graceful beech 
 and brilliant Spanish chestnut; here a 
 peat-stained stream fresh from the hill, 
 tumbled over rock and gravel on its way 
 to join the wide, still Forth, — there a 
 long slope of grass was crowned by a 
 group of tall Scotch firs and gloomy yew, 
 and now a wooden seat was placed against 
 the trunks of two mighty larches, brought 
 over long- ago from their native land as 
 precious rarities, and watched with heedful 
 assiduity. 
 
 Everything about the place bespoke an 
 affectionate care and reverence for the
 
 "woo'd ax' maeeied an' a'." 217 
 
 relics of the past ; and thougli Sir Duncan 
 was a man ayIio moved with the times, 
 he valued the old plate, the china, the 
 thin-legged tables and narrow cabinets, 
 that had been the everyday companions of 
 his " forebears," far beyond the more costly 
 furniture and chased silver with which he 
 and his father had enriched the house, 
 replacing the cups and dishes that had 
 gone into the Prince's coffers. 
 
 From the hall-door, two avenues branched 
 off in opposite directions^ — the one barely 
 half a mile long, leading into the village, 
 not far from the manse : the other windino^ 
 through the park, so as to form a drive of 
 some length, and finally coming out on a 
 highroad near a distant part of the estate. 
 
 By each of these avenues on the wedding- 
 day guests were to arrive, the tenant-farm- 
 ers chiefly by the longer of the two, where 
 the procession of dogcarts and spring- 
 carts of all sorts and sizes wound merrily
 
 218 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 between the oversliadowing trees. For 
 these, the larger number of the guests, din- 
 ner was spread in the picture-gallery, and 
 there Sir Duncan was to preside ; while 
 those who arrived from the village were 
 accommodated elsewhere, and attended to 
 by other members of the family gathered 
 for the occasion. 
 
 Miss Forbes moved from room to room 
 on the eventful morning in a fever of 
 anxiety. She had at first been greatly 
 scandalised at the manner in which her 
 niece meant to celebrate her marriage — it 
 was so very peculiar of her not to entertain 
 the neighbourhood in the accustomed way. 
 
 " But, my dear aunt," said Muriel, when 
 the matter was under discussion, " every- 
 body is asked to the church, and almost 
 everybody is asked to breakfast, and what 
 more would you have 1 " 
 
 " There should have been a ball at least, 
 my dear/' replied Miss Forbes, seriously.
 
 woo'd ax' married an' a'." 219 
 
 " To what end ? What would be the 
 good of turning the house upside-down, in 
 order that people who can go to as many 
 balls as they like should come to another ? 
 No, Fm sure weddings are often a dreadful 
 bore, and I believe that the county people 
 will really be grateful to us for arranging 
 as we have done." 
 
 '^ I am sure of that," said Sir Duncan ; 
 '^ no speeches — a standing breakfast, and 
 then let them all turn out and see the 
 other guests come, or join the school chil- 
 dren in the tents and at the games till they 
 like to go home. It's far pleasanter than 
 the usual formality of a long breakfast that 
 nobody wants, speeches that every one hates, 
 and time on hand that no one can get 
 rid of." 
 
 " Oh, I know — you are as bad as Muriel, 
 my dear brother. It is very strange that, 
 though you are both so conservative in 
 some things, I have never been able to
 
 220 THE minister's SON. 
 
 make you respect ttie customs of society 
 sufficiently." 
 
 " My dear Alicia, people make customs. 
 Now you always talk as though customs 
 made people : they do so to a certain extent, 
 but not altogether." 
 
 '^ But where is one to draw the line ? 
 You are so terribly independent. In a 
 man, that matters less ; but I really believe, 
 but for my training, Muriel might have 
 developed into something that I shudder 
 to think of." 
 
 ''A strong-minded woman perhaps, 
 aunt," laughed Muriel. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know what you might have 
 done." 
 
 *' I know what she would not have done," 
 said Sir Duncan, looking at her fondly. " I 
 admit, Alicia, that you have taught her 
 wisdom of a sort that I have never mas- 
 tered, and that a woman requires to learn. 
 She needs the wisdom of the serpent, if she
 
 ''woo'd ax' maeried ax' a'." 221 
 
 is to mix with society, as well as the harm- 
 lessness of the dove. But that very harm- 
 lessness would have kept my girl within 
 the line of prudence." 
 
 " Ah ! would it ? I don t know where 
 you draw that line, and I think a regard 
 for social custom is the best safeguard." 
 
 '* Social custom being invariably right 
 and wise and in good taste, you assume 
 that, of course ! I think the line is drawn 
 first at what is right ; secondly, at w^hat is 
 convenient. It is right for me to entertain 
 my tenants and the folk generally about 
 the place ; it is convenient, therefore, not 
 to entertain the county — and though that 
 were a much more serious omission than 
 it really is, I should not care a whit ! " 
 
 "I daresay you're right; but who ever 
 heard of a standing breakfast before ? It is 
 extraordinary," said poor Miss Forbes, plain- 
 tively. 
 
 "AYell, say it is all my fault — I shall
 
 222 THE minister's SON. 
 
 take it on my own shoulders ; and you'll 
 find,' if the breakfast is ample and the 
 champagne good, people will manage just 
 as well as at a ball-supper, and the affair 
 will take half the usual time." 
 
 After this decision, it was no wonder 
 that Miss Forbes was somewhat restless 
 and uneasy on the great morniug. To do 
 her justice, she was quite as anxious as her 
 brother himself that the tenants and all 
 the other people should be handsomely en- 
 tertained ; but she could not help looking 
 sadly at the array in the dining-room, and 
 repeating to herself, " It's nicely done, but 
 I do wish Duncan would have let people 
 go in properly, and sit down in their order. 
 It would have been so much more disf- 
 
 o 
 
 nified." 
 
 Gifts meanwhile had poured in from all 
 quarters, and many of the humblest touched 
 Muriel's heart deeply. Never had the ser- 
 vants heard their young mistress speak so
 
 **woo'd an' married an' a'" 223 
 
 sharply as when she detected them in the 
 act of hiding away trifles that they consid- 
 ered unworthy of display among the choicer 
 presents. " You think of nothing but the 
 money's worth," said she, and displaced a 
 silver casket, in order to make room for a 
 carved bracket, the work of a lame boy at 
 one of the farms. In the same spirit, she 
 discarded on her wedding-day her hand- 
 kerchief of costly lace, and asked for one 
 on which a village girl had embroidered her 
 initials. These, and such as these, were 
 the little acts which proved Muriel Forbes 
 to be true lady as she was true woman, for 
 they were the outcome of a refined and 
 gentle mind. 
 
 On the day before the marriage, there 
 was a great looking-out of clothes, a tack- 
 ing in of frills, and ironing of collars in 
 Tillybodle. " Hae ye a'thing ready ? " said 
 Jamie Paterson's next-door neighbour, Mrs 
 Grey, to Mrs M'Eorie, the butcher's wife.
 
 224 THE minister's SON. 
 
 " Ou ay," replied she, pausing to rest 
 her heavy market-basket on the door-step. 
 " IVe just come frae the shop, and wad ye 
 believe it, Jamie Paterson was in buying 
 half a pund o' soap ! " 
 
 **It's no possible 1 " 
 
 " Fac's deith." 
 
 *' Weel, that's mair nor's been in his 
 hoose at ance this five year I've lived be- 
 side him ! " 
 
 " 'Deed is it. Miss Muriel wad be gey 
 an' pleased if she heard tell o't — she's aye 
 speakin' aboot cleanly ways." 
 
 " Ay, she's as neat's a new preen hersel ; 
 ye'll no see her trapesin' through the streets 
 in a lang goun lickin' up the stour ahint 
 her." 
 
 *^ No ; yon fashion suits best wi' the 
 leddies'-maids at Hardwicke's place, disna 
 it '? Gude nicht, I maun be steppin'." 
 
 Next morning at an early hour Jamie 
 Paterson looked in at his neio;hbour's door
 
 "woo'd an' mareied ax' a'." 225 
 
 with a twinkle in his eye, and a face ruddy 
 from the use of the half-pound of soap. 
 
 ''Mrs Grey, hae ye a meenit to sj)are 
 and a button ye could gie me? I'm needin' 
 ane for my shirt. I can shoo that on 
 mysel', but I'm no gude at this kind of 
 wark," said he, holding up a torn shirt- 
 sleeve. 
 
 " I'll pit that richt directly, and here's 
 a button. Man, ye're awfu' smairt-lookin' 
 the day." 
 
 " Weel, ye see, I dinna approve of mar- 
 riages, or I'd hae been married mysel', 
 and I'm no vera fond o' the gentry; but 
 for a' that, I wadna like to bide awa' the 
 day. Sir Duncan's a real gude man, and 
 Miss Muriel's a gude-hearted lassie ; she's 
 aye gi'en me a ceevil word and a bonny 
 smile, and I'll gi'e them a hand when 
 they tak' oot the horses at the sooth gate. 
 Maybe she'll no see me, but maybe she 
 wull." 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 THE minister's son. 
 
 Muriers courage carried her bravely 
 through the morning — through the long 
 process of dressing when servants and 
 brides'-maids crowd round, and a strange 
 solemnity of feeling accompanies the put- 
 ting on of the w^hite robes that symbolise 
 so much — through mamsie's tearful em- 
 brace and tender retouching of wreath 
 and veil — through the few moments of 
 almost silent farewell to her father in the 
 library, ere he led her out to the carriage. 
 
 That over, she went through the cere- 
 mony in the church with the composure 
 that came from a confident love, and 
 never bride looked fairer than she, as she 
 passed between rows of school children 
 and amid showers of blossoms back to the 
 carriage wdth her husband. She had not 
 been told of the welcome that awaited 
 her at the lodge-gates, but when the loud 
 cheers burst unexpectedly upon her ear, her 
 calm gave way, and the ready tears came.
 
 "woo'd ax' married ax a. 227 
 
 The horses were soon unharnessed, — for 
 thoug;h it was considerablv out of the 
 usual course for the bride to be drawn 
 in triumph to her door at this stage of 
 the proceedings, Sir Duncan had not had 
 the heart to refuse the request of those who 
 had planned it. And Muriel, with tears 
 and smiles, looked out at her friends, and 
 one of them was sure he heard her say 
 to Leslie, "Oh, there's Jamie Paterson — 
 looking so clean ! How nice of him ! " 
 and was glad that he had paid that visit 
 to the stores. 
 
 The breakfast, in spite of Miss Forbes's 
 fears, passed off excellently. Muriel did 
 not appear, but partook of her own meal in 
 the little boudoir, once her mother's and 
 hitherto her own ; but before retiring there, 
 she made the first cut in the monster cake, 
 which, for size and richness, satisfied even' 
 Miss Forbes's requirements. Then the tra- 
 velling dress was on, mamsie put back the
 
 228 THE MINISTEK's SON. 
 
 veil for a last embrace, and Sir Duncan 
 at the door was calling that the carriage 
 was ready, and it was fully time to start. 
 
 Muriel went out : with a last lingering 
 look round her pretty room, she took her 
 father's arm in silence and hastened along 
 the passage to the landing - place at the 
 top of the main staircase. She had 
 an indistinct consciousness of kisses and 
 blessings, of a sea of upturned faces 
 below her as she came down the wide 
 staircase, of a rush, a bewildering pat- 
 tering shower of shoes and rice, the 
 carriage door slammed, and they were off 
 — but even as the four grey horses 
 moved, a figure dashed to the farther 
 window and threw something into her 
 lap with a cry of '' Wussing ye joy, Mrs 
 Leslie!" It was Jamie Paterson, and on 
 Muriel's knee lay a dainty pair of bronze 
 shoes with fanciful sewing and rosettes. 
 
 '' Eh," said Jamie, with a sigh, as he
 
 "woo'd an' mareied ax' a'." 229 
 
 joined his friends, " she's a bonnie lass, 
 and cheerin's a fine thing." 
 
 " Hoo's that, Jamie ? " 
 
 " Man, it's sic drouthy wark. Let's awa' 
 to the denner-tent." 
 
 The bonfires blazed brightly that night 
 on more than one hillside; and not one 
 of those who piled them, and watched 
 their rising flames, guessed that a solitary 
 sentry from the ramparts of Edinburgh 
 Castle gazed at the reddening sky, and 
 thought that once — in a time that now 
 seemed very far away — he too had loved 
 the fair girl in whose honour that glow 
 was kindled. 
 
 " I really think, Duncan, that every- 
 thing has gone off without a single hitch 
 or failure of any kind," said Miss Alicia 
 to her brother, two days after Muriel's 
 marriage, when the last dinner was over, 
 the last cheer given, and the relics of the 
 festivities were being cleared away.
 
 230 THE minister's SON. 
 
 "I can liarclly believe that, my dear; 
 we may be quite sure that some one or 
 other has not been pleased, though we 
 may never find it out. But I must 
 say, every one has tried, as far as I could 
 tell, to carry out the orders complete- 
 ly, and no failure has come to my know- 
 ledge/' 
 
 " The Duchess said everything was 
 charming." 
 
 '*AVhat! even in spite of the standing 
 breakfast ? " exclaimed Sir Duncan. 
 
 " Well, I confess people minded that less 
 than I expected : they seemed amused, 
 but not so much put out after all," replied 
 Miss Forbes, candidly. 
 
 " Of course ; give people credit for sense, 
 take them a little into your confidence 
 about a thing, and ten to one they will 
 be on your side." 
 
 *' In your case, Duncan, — but then 
 you have the reputation of being a little
 
 *'woo'd an' maeried an' a'." 231 
 
 eccentric, and that helps you through 
 many a difficulty." 
 
 " I am thankful to hear it, and am 
 willing to be credited with any amount 
 of eccentricity, if in that way I can 
 secure my libertyc" 
 
 "Yes — you don't care what people 
 think ; I do, and I was much pleased to 
 find the Duchess was well amused." 
 
 *'The Duchess is a woman of the world, 
 and always has the air of being satisfied 
 with her hosts : that's the reason she is so 
 popular. One must be always pleased or 
 always critical. Either way one gets a 
 reputation, and that is the great object 
 of a woman's life," said Sir Duncan, smil- 
 ing ; but Miss Forbes was not inclined to 
 smile. 
 
 " Now you are talking riddles, Duncan, 
 for you know you don't like the Duchess. 
 But to return to what we were saying — 
 you think things went off" well 1 "
 
 232 THE minister's SON. 
 
 **Yes; and it is satisfactory that I did 
 not see a single face that was not kindly 
 and well pleased in the crowd to-day. 
 Every one has shown great sympathy and 
 good feeling through the whole affair." 
 
 "Particularly by taking too much whisky," 
 remarked Miss Alicia, who always shuddered 
 at the sight of any one who had ** had a 
 drop." 
 
 *^You must not be too hard on that, 
 for there were very few offenders, consider- 
 ing the number entertained. You know I 
 abominate drink as heartily as you ; but 
 until men value their self-respect more than 
 many of them do, I fear drunkards w^ll 
 exist. I was particularly struck with the 
 sobriety of the people compared with what 
 I remember at the time of my own marriage, 
 for instance." 
 
 " I saw that horrible man Paterson, and 
 that was enough for me." 
 
 " Poor old Jamie 1 When a man has
 
 ''wood an married an a. 233 
 
 yielded for thirty years or more, you can 
 hardly expect him to be hero enough to 
 leave a feast sober. I think it spoke vol- 
 umes for his kind feeling towards Muriel 
 that he came sober and clean." 
 
 " I believe you would find an excuse for 
 the greatest criminal, Duncan ! " 
 
 " Can you honestly say there would be 
 none ? I do not despise drink less because 
 I see the force of the temptation." 
 
 '' Ah well ! you cannot expect a woman 
 to agree with all that. Our conclusions are 
 more distinct." 
 
 Sir Duncan smiled, but did not reply : 
 he certainly did not expect this particular 
 woman to agree with him, and willingly 
 allowed the talk to return to the pleasant 
 channels in which it had flowed at first. It 
 did indeed seem as though nothiug had 
 occurred to overcast that brilliant wedding- 
 day. From the rosy dawn to the firelit 
 night everything had gone smoothly ; and
 
 234 THE minister's son. 
 
 just as smoothly, as far as onlookers could 
 tell, the life of the young husband and wife 
 might run. 
 
 Who would have thought that a tiny 
 cloud, that was beginning to arise in the 
 far East, would by-and-by overshadow it — 
 a cloud that hung over a fort and a palace, 
 where a sullen potentate was nursing dis- 
 appointment and Avrath ?
 
 235 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 riXDING HIS LEVEL. 
 
 Great as was the blank Muriel's departure 
 had left at Inverallan Hall, she was almost 
 more missed at the manse. Sir Duncan 
 would see her again soon, could follow her 
 in her wanderings if he chose, would re- 
 ceive almost daily her hapj)y letters, but 
 for " mamsie '' there were no such consola- 
 tions. When her heart was heavy and her 
 eyes sore with weeping over her husband's 
 stern avoidance of her boy's name ; when 
 she longed with a sick longing to see him 
 again, or trembled at the inevitable parting 
 when he must go abroad, — there was no 
 sound of a cheery voice, no bright young
 
 236 THE minister's son. 
 
 face peeping in at tlie window, no warm 
 kiss to comfort her loneliness, now that 
 Muriel was gone. 
 
 She began to feel old, old and weary ; 
 and she would walk slowly of an afternoon 
 to the little yew arbour at the end of the 
 garden, from which she could see the friends 
 of her youth, the distant Highland hills 
 among which she had dreamed her earliest 
 dreams. Here she would sit for hours, 
 watching while the broad sunshine lit up 
 masses of crag and wooded slope and heath- 
 ery moor, — watching while the blue shadows 
 gathered and the swift shower drifted across 
 the peaks, or the evening colours deepened, 
 and orange clouds barred the sky behind 
 the purple crests. Then the minister would 
 come to the door, calling imperiously as a 
 man will who wants his tea and finds no 
 woman in the accustomed corner ; and she 
 would rise and return to the house, a little 
 more quickly perhaps, as though she had
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 237 
 
 gathered strength in that time of quiet com- 
 muning, and with a patient face she would 
 pour out the tea, and bear her part in the 
 talk of the hour. 
 
 Her patience smote her husband, for he 
 knew that she suffered. He talked there- 
 fore of books and opinions that of old 
 would have interested her, thinking to do 
 what he could for her, and to persuade 
 himself that no more was due from him, 
 since he could not go back from his word 
 about their son. And she listened and 
 knew that she was thinking all the while 
 of Konald, and that her husband's dogmat- 
 ism had been tried and found wantino; 
 when she needed help and comfort. Fur- 
 ther, with the strange intuition that belongs 
 to those that love, even thous^h love be hid- 
 den for a while behind a cloud of misunder- 
 standing or difference, each was aware of 
 the other's state of mind, and knew of the 
 mutual knowledge.
 
 238 THE MINISTEES SON. 
 
 Life was a sore perplexity at the manse 
 in these days, and as yet there was no sign 
 of clearer understanding. Ronald had writ- 
 ten to his mother soon after Sir Duncan 
 had seen him in Edinburgh, and his letter 
 brought her some comfort ; but though her 
 husband had read it, and she, eagerly watch- 
 ing him, had seen the quickly restrained in- 
 terest in his face, his words, as he returned 
 it to her, crushed the hope that was rising 
 in her heart. 
 
 '' He'll have to bow his proud spirit now. 
 He'll find that liberty is not included 
 amongst the pomps and glories of war." 
 
 " Perhaps that will be good for him ; 
 but oh, James, you'll come and see him — 
 our boy ? " said the mother, pleadingly. 
 
 " No, wife. I at least will not go back 
 from my word. He was to me a chosen 
 plant — we need not talk of that, — he has 
 refused a great part in life, has turned his 
 back wilfully on the work in which he
 
 FIXDIXG HIS LEVEL. 239 
 
 might have toiled for the right, and has 
 given himself to a profession fit for godless 
 idlers. It would not be fitting that I should 
 visit him, unless, indeed, he repents of his 
 choice. He is no longer as a son to me." 
 
 This had been the minister's decision, 
 which no persuasions would induce him to 
 alter ; therefore his wife had ceased to 
 argue, and in her long hours of solitude 
 had determined to be, for once, more mother 
 than wife, and to go and see her son by 
 herself. But when she wrote to Eonald — 
 innocent, poor soul, of the details of his 
 life — to propose that he should meet her at 
 the railway station, and spend the day with 
 her, he answered by return of post, begging 
 her not to come. 
 
 " If I happened to be on duty, I could 
 not come to see you at all," he wrote, 
 '*and I am not used yet to my livery, and 
 should not like to walk about the town 
 with you, where, perhaps, we might meet
 
 240 THE MINISTERS SON. 
 
 some of my father's friends. I am not 
 ashamed of myself, understand, but I should 
 be ashamed for you." 
 
 Little did he dream, when he penned this 
 letter, that in a few short years he would 
 be prouder of wearing that livery of the 
 Queen's than he could have been of any 
 other garb on earth. 
 
 At present he was only feeling the in- 
 evitable hardships of his position. He hated 
 the daily drills, the monotonous duties 
 which he could not yet discharge with 
 mechanical indifference ; he disliked the in- 
 cessant inspection, and was sometimes bit- 
 terly amused, but more often angry, at the 
 paramount importance of trifles. There 
 were days when he could have burst into 
 ironical laughter at the serious countenances 
 of the officers as they inspected belts and 
 buttons, detecting with severe eyes if a fold 
 were misplaced, or a belt a quarter of an 
 inch out of its place.
 
 FIXDING HIS LEVEL. 241 
 
 The barrack life, the constant contact 
 with his companions, the rough meals, the 
 lack of privacy, disgusted him, and many a 
 time did he regret that he had rejected Sir 
 Duncan's offer to buy him his discharge. 
 The only possible ameliorations to his lot 
 would be, first, to go abroad, and, secondly, 
 to do his best to obtain promotion. He 
 saw that the sergeants were, as a rule, far 
 more polished and educated than he had 
 expected, and lie resolved that at the earliest 
 possible date he would rank among them. 
 
 This resolve once taken, his will bent on 
 learning his work, he soon attracted the 
 attention of his superiors, and was marked 
 as a man likely to get on. Happily for him, 
 good non-commissioned officers were much 
 wanted, and in six months he had his first 
 stripe upon his arm. 
 
 Instantly he wrote to his mother, and 
 fixed a day for her to come to Edinburgh. 
 
 " I have made my first upward step to- 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 THE minister's SON. 
 
 day, motlier, and now I should not care 
 thougli all the folk you know were to meet 
 us, since a man who does his best in any 
 sort of work may fairly look any other man 
 in the face. I have done mine, and as I 
 get on, I believe I shall grow fond of my 
 profession/' 
 
 To Mrs Bennett much of this letter was 
 unintelligible : to her one soldier was the 
 same as another, and she could not under- 
 stand the grades and their distinctions. 
 Konald, however, was contented, and that 
 was enough for her, and she prepared gladly 
 for her trip. 
 
 " James, I'm going to Edinburgh on 
 Wednesday," said she that evening as they 
 sat at tea. 
 
 '' Are you ? Is that arranged ? " he asked. 
 
 '' Yes, there's the letter. You can have 
 no objection now — he is doing his best ; will 
 you not come with me ? " 
 
 " He does not invite me, and I told you
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 243 
 
 before that I would not do it. Go yourself. 
 I cannot expect more fortitude from you. 
 Go, and — wife — see if he wants for anything. 
 It would be right to do what we can for the 
 lad now, in the way of any small sum." 
 
 " Thank you, James," replied Marian, 
 grateful for this first sign of softening, and 
 hopeful that it might be the precursor of a 
 gentler mood. 
 
 As the train on Wednesday morning drew 
 up at the platform, Mrs Bennet looked out 
 eagerly : a tall figure in tartan and white 
 jacket came quickly forward, and with a 
 rush of mingled feelings she recognised her 
 son. He was greatly changed in appear- 
 ance, he had grown and improved in looks : 
 drill and discipline had set him up, and 
 transformed him from a boy to a man. So 
 far she could not but be pleased and proud 
 of him, but it was hard to reconcile herself 
 to the uniform, which was to her a badge 
 of restraint and of banishment from home.
 
 244 THE minister's SOX. 
 
 It seemed to her a dreadful thing that he 
 should have no room of his own into which 
 he could take her for a quiet talk. She 
 must either go to the expense of hiring a 
 sitting-room at a hotel, or content herself 
 with such privacy as was afforded by a cor- 
 ner table in one of the confectioners' dining- 
 rooms. She chose the latter, for as it was 
 still early there would be but few people, 
 and she went, with a certain shy conscious- 
 ness upon her, .to one that she was accus- 
 tomed to frequent on the rare occasions 
 when Mr Bennet had brought her to town. 
 
 As she entered the shop, and was passing 
 through to the dining-room, the girls behind 
 the counter looked up at Eonald, and after 
 a moment's hesitation one of them came 
 forward. 
 
 *' I think you've made a mistake," she 
 
 said ; ''we don't usually have soldiers in 
 
 here." 
 
 Eonald flushed scarlet, and stood for a
 
 FIXDIXG HIS LEVEL. 245 
 
 second, too much taken aback to reply ; but 
 his mother turned round. 
 
 " I think you are making a mistake. I 
 have been here often before — I am Mrs 
 Bennett." 
 
 " Oh yes, ma'am, I remember you." 
 
 *' This is my son," said Marian, with the 
 dignity of a woman who defends the man 
 who belongs to her, even though her pride 
 be hurt. 
 
 " Oh, indeed," said the girl, half super- 
 cilious, half embarrassed ; *' of course I 
 didn't know, ma am, — it's not that we object, 
 but there's many people mightn't like it." 
 
 *' I presume if a soldier behaves like a 
 gentleman they cannot object," said Eonald, 
 recovering himself ; " you can hardly select 
 your customers. Let us go on, mother." 
 
 " Well, ma'am, if anything's said it will 
 not be my fault, — I've no wish to disoblige," 
 said the girl ; and mother and son went 
 into the dining-room, and took their places
 
 246 THE minister's SON. 
 
 at a table in the fartliest corner of the 
 room. 
 
 Mrs Bennett was trembling as she sat 
 down : her quick temper was fired, her sen- 
 sitive pride stung, by this harsh evidence of 
 her boy's social fall. There flashed upon 
 her mind a day, one of many, when she had 
 watched him sleeping in his crib, and, look- 
 ing at his broad brow and well-shaped head, 
 had indulged in dreams of some great fu- 
 ture in store for him. She had dreamt of 
 him as a scholar, an author, perhaps a great 
 preacher, and here he sat before her in a 
 uniform that exposed him to insult. 
 
 ]\Iother-like she bent forward to comfort 
 him, laying her thin hand on his. /'My 
 boy, how well you look ! do not let that 
 woman's stupidity vex you." 
 
 '' On the contrary, it is giving me new 
 ideas, mother. If folk are really so illiberal 
 as to dislike a uniform that has been worn 
 by men quite as good as they, it's time to
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 247 
 
 take the matter up, and force them to 
 respect it." 
 
 '' But, my dear, soldiers are so often rough 
 and unpleasant." 
 
 " Of course, the good suffer for the bad — 
 that is to be expected. But I think I'll 
 make an experiment ; Til lunch at all the 
 dining-rooms in Edinburgh, and publish the 
 result. Now let us talk of other matters, 
 and not waste our precious time together. 
 Tell me about Mrs Leslie's marriage." 
 
 " I sent you a paper — did you not 
 get it?" 
 
 " Oh yes, but I want to know all that you 
 can tell me, and that the paper can't tell." 
 
 Mrs Bennett proceeded to comply with 
 his request, and then passed on to the topics 
 most interesting to her : EonakVs reasons 
 for his flight, what he had done with him- 
 self at first, why he had enlisted, and a 
 hundred other matters on which she had 
 touched but lightly, if at all, in her letters.
 
 248 THE minister's SON. 
 
 While they conversed in low tones, the 
 room began to fill, and one and another of 
 the new comers looked with disapproval at 
 the unaccustomed visitor in the corner. 
 Two ladies hesitated to take the next table, 
 which was the only one vacant, saying 
 audibly something about a smell of smoke. 
 
 Mrs Bennett, who had seen their man- 
 oeuvre, hoped that Eonald would not notice 
 the remark, but his quick ear caught it, 
 and rising, he said at once, with a bow, 
 *' Excuse me ; I assure you I do not smoke," 
 but at the same time he drew his chair a 
 little farther away. 
 
 The elder of the two ladies looked an- 
 noyed ; but they took their places, never- 
 theless, and ordered their luncheon. 
 
 " If you have finished, ma'am, we should 
 be glad of the table,'' said the waitress to 
 Mrs Bennett, shortly afterwards. 
 
 "Ah yes, we are keeping it too long," 
 replied Ronald, rising and paying for the
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 249 
 
 luncheon. As he moved the chairs, and 
 stood back to allow his mother to pass, he 
 felt that every one was watching him ; and 
 he was walking out of the room with head 
 erect, when a lady and gentleman entered^ 
 and there was a momentary pause, as a 
 waitress, tray in hand, barred the way. 
 
 The Q^entleman — a stout man in a lif^ht 
 suit — looked at Konald, hesitated, looked 
 again, and spoke. 
 
 " Surely I know your face — met you 
 somewhere." 
 
 "Yes, in different clothes, skating on 
 Airthrey Loch." 
 
 ''To be sure : Mr Bennett, I think ; I 
 never forget a face ; heard you'd enlisted," 
 said Mr Hardwicke, shaking hands with 
 Eon aid, and glancing at Mrs Bennett. 
 
 " My mother, Mr Hardwicke," said Kon- 
 ald. 
 
 '' My sister, Mr Bennett ; she's just home 
 from school — hardly knows Tillybodle," re-
 
 250 THE minister's SON. 
 
 turned Hardwicke. '•' Have you had lunch 1 
 Pity — might have had it together. How 
 d'ye like the service ? " 
 
 ^' It's not as bad as it's painted," replied 
 Ronald, smiling. 
 
 " Ah — wish I was in it — wanted to go in 
 — guardians wouldn't let me — might have 
 done some good then. Are you staying in 
 Edinburgh, Mrs Bennett ? " 
 
 " Only for the day. I came to see my son." 
 
 "My carriage is at the door; couldn't it 
 take you anywhere '? pray use it." 
 
 "We shall be some time at lunch — 
 Ernest likes to lunch well," added Miss 
 Hardwicke, smiling. 
 
 " Of course — something to do. Where 
 will you go, Mrs Bennett ? " 
 
 " Mrs Bennett was about to decline, but 
 Eonald interposed. "You are very kind, 
 indeed, and I know my mother is tired. I 
 shall be very glad if she can go to the 
 National Gallery."
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 251 
 
 "Certainly — come along — 111 put you 
 in. Laura, get the carte, and choose the 
 soup — not the rest, though." 
 
 So saying, Mr Hardwicke escorted Mrs 
 Bennett down-stairs, and, to the amazement 
 of the shop girls, she and her son drove off 
 in a neat brougham. 
 
 " Well, that's a good fellow," said Ronald, 
 "and I remember I thought him an ass. 
 No wonder ; I was too great an ass myself 
 then to do otherwise." 
 
 " I never heard of these people before," 
 said his sister to Hardwicke, as he sat 
 down and began to study the carte ; " you 
 seem very friendly with them : just a 
 private soldier, isn't he 1 " 
 
 " Yes, you have heard of them. The old 
 lady is the wife of the Tillybodle minister. 
 Son ran away from home, and enlisted. I 
 barely know him — heard all about him — 
 sorry for his old mother ; sorry for him, for 
 he is another of them. "
 
 252 THE minister's son. 
 
 '' Another of whom ? " 
 
 " Another of its — men who loved Muriel 
 Forbes — only it wrecked him and saved 
 me, — that's the difference." 
 
 " Ernest, that sounds as if you had been 
 something dreadful. I wish you wouldn't 
 speak so." 
 
 " So I was — dreadful ass — am an ass still, 
 but I know it — that's different; mean to 
 try and help other asses — another differ- 
 ence ; and she did it. Will you have 
 Sperlings ? they may be good. Lobster can't 
 be eatable here ! " 
 
 "Well," said the head waitress, mean- 
 while, as she paused to speak to her com- 
 panions in the shop, " Mrs Bennett may be 
 all right — and Mr Hardwicke's quite the 
 gentleman ; but if Mr Bennett comes here 
 again, I'll get the manager in, for there's five 
 different parties spoke about him to-day." 
 
 So true it is that the fickle British public 
 will cheer itself hoarse one day over a
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 253 
 
 departing or an incoming regiment, and 
 will turn the cold shoulder the next on 
 individuals whose uniform ought to be their 
 pride. 
 
 In the quiet rooms of the gallery, with 
 only lovely Mrs Graham's eyes gazing 
 at them from the canvas, mother and son 
 resumed their interrupted talk ; and there, 
 as gently as he could, he told her that in a 
 few months he must sail for India to join 
 the head-quarters of his regiment, and tried 
 to make her comprehend that he could not 
 by any possibility remain with the linked 
 battalion in the castle. 
 
 True remorse for his mad act had never 
 smitten Ronald till he saw his mother 
 cowering down on the crimson ottoman 
 beside him, as though shrinking from some 
 mortal blow. She hid her face so long in 
 her hands, that at last, alarmed at her 
 silence, he touched her, and whispered a 
 loving word in her ear.
 
 254 THE minister's SON. 
 
 She looked up at him, her face blanched, 
 her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 
 
 " Eonald, if you go abroad, it will kill 
 me!" 
 
 '' Mother, you taught me to love honour, 
 did you not '? " 
 
 " Yes— well ? " 
 
 "Well, you know my only honour now 
 is in going on well with my profession ; and 
 you surely know, too, that I cannot leave 
 it. AYould you like your father's grandson 
 — a MacGregor's grandson — to be caught 
 as a deserter ? or would you prefer to have 
 him branded as a coward 1 They are the 
 only alternatives." 
 
 " Why as a coward '? " 
 
 "Because there is a rumour of war, and, 
 therefore, I could not, even if I wished it, 
 take my discharge now. No, mother, you 
 must not be less brave than your forbears." 
 
 This was an argument that appealed to 
 Marian Bennett's heart ; but though she
 
 FINDING HIS LEVEL. 255 
 
 acknowledged its force, she raised herself 
 wearily and shook her head. 
 
 "" To endure, to endure, and always to 
 endure. That's the owre-word of some 
 women's lives — it has been so with me ! " 
 
 " And what says our old proverb, mother ? 
 — ' He that tholes owrecomes.' " 
 
 " Ay, laddie, it's easy talking : men's 
 work eases their troubles, but a woman's 
 griefs are about her day and night. Well, 
 well, I'll do my best ; and mind you this, 
 laddie, — I can bear trials that come in the 
 natural course of life, but what I could 
 not bear would be to know you were un- 
 worthy." 
 
 " ]\Iother," said Eonald, bravely, '' I hope 
 I may never cause you another heartache 
 by anything I do. I've had my schooling 
 and my paiks," he continued, more lightly, 
 "but I mean to be a gude bairn hence- 
 forth : believe that, and let me think it's 
 some comfort to you."
 
 256 THE minister's son. 
 
 "The best you could give me, my 
 dear bairn," said Mrs Bennett, with shining 
 eyes. 
 
 '' That's well ; and now I fear you must 
 be going, or you'll miss your train," 
 said he. And leaning on her boy's arm, 
 Mrs Bennett walked along Princes Street, 
 crowded at that hour, to the Waver] ey 
 Station, and did not even reflect that her 
 old friends might chance to meet her, 
 and mio[ht look askance at her on his 
 account. 
 
 Had they done so, she would have re- 
 garded them with pride as great as their 
 own ; for Eonald was more hers to - day 
 than he had been for years. He had 
 spoken freely to her, and she was content.
 
 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 A FRESH START. 
 
 When Mrs Bennett reached home her hus- 
 band was waiting at the door of his study, 
 and followed her into the parlour, poking 
 the fire restlessly, while the old maid- 
 servant, anxious to see to her mistress's 
 comfort after her unwonted absence, ling- 
 ered about her, putting a chair for her 
 near the hearth. 
 
 She was anxious too, old Nancy, for she 
 knew what errand had taken Mrs Bennett 
 away ; but she would not utter the ques- 
 tion that was on her lips, because the 
 minister was by. For the same reason 
 Mrs Bennett only gave her a nod and a 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 THE minister's SON. 
 
 smile — a faint and wan smile — and said, 
 " I'd like a cup of tea, Nancy — I'm tired ; " 
 whereupon Nancy left the room, thinking 
 within herself that that weary voice could 
 have no good news to tell. 
 
 There was silence when husband and 
 wife were left alone, — she sitting on a 
 low seat, her listless hands on her knees, 
 her sad eyes fixed on the blazing coals; 
 he standing, a dark figure against the 
 ruddy light, with sidelong glance at her 
 drooping head, and heart too proud to 
 question her. 
 
 At last he spoke, in a tone sharpened 
 by anxious impatience — ''"Well, wife?" 
 
 She raised herself, and looking him 
 straight in the face said slowly, ''Ronald 
 is well. He will get on. He — goes to 
 India — in about six months." 
 
 "What do you say? How? The 1st 
 is quartered in Edinburgh." 
 
 "The 1st is not his regiment, you must
 
 A FRESH START. 259 
 
 remember; he joins the 2d Eegiment with 
 the next draft." 
 
 Bennett walked to the window and 
 drummed with his fingers on the panes, 
 each sound going sharply through his 
 wife's achincy head. 
 
 **Did he ask for me — or wish — to see 
 me ? " he inquired, without turning round. 
 
 " He said he supposed you had not 
 wished to see him ; you were always stern 
 to him, and he was neither clever enough 
 nor good enough to satisfy you. He said 
 it had often seemed to him he had no 
 father ; he knew that you never loved him 
 as I did." 
 
 These sentences were uttered in a mon- 
 otonous tone, as though the speaker did 
 not expect them to produce any efiect, 
 and was merely answering mechanically the 
 questions that had been put to her. 
 
 Again there was a pause, till on her 
 startled ear broke a sigh that was almost
 
 260 THE minister's SON. 
 
 a sob, and a smothered exclamation, " My 
 boy — my boy ! '' 
 
 She turned and looked, and in the fading 
 light she saw her husband leaning his head 
 on his clasped hands against the window, 
 and her heart leapt. 
 
 Was it only by losing her boy that she 
 was to find again the loving companion 
 of her youth ? Would the stern nature 
 unbend at last, so that he and she might 
 comfort each other in their lonely old age 1 
 She rose, leaning for support upon a chair, 
 half fearing a rebuff, half awed by Ben- 
 nett's unwonted attitude. 
 
 " James ! " she said, timidly ; and again, 
 " James ! " 
 
 Bennett did not speak ; but he stretched 
 out his hand in mute appeal, and she tot- 
 tered rather than walked across the room, 
 and flung her arms round his neck, draw- 
 ing towards her the still hidden face." 
 
 "Husband !" — she had not so addressed
 
 A FRESH START. 261 
 
 him for months — " come to the fireside and 
 let us talk together. Let me see into your 
 mind as I did when we were young — and 
 oh, let there be peace between us ! " 
 
 So with tears and gentle force she led 
 him to her own arm-chair, and sittiog by 
 him, laid her hand in his and drew him 
 on to speak. 
 
 To that outpouring of the secrets of a 
 reserved nature no strano-er ear should 
 listen. Now and again such a character 
 crosses our path, and we recognise with 
 pity the coldness that covers inward fire, 
 the harshness and reserve that hide such 
 agonies of self-immolation, such strivings 
 after the fulfilment of duty, as are unknown 
 to happier souls. 
 
 Marion Bennett had never known her 
 husband as thoroughly as now, when the 
 pang of hearing his son's words had stirred 
 him. He was wounded to the quick in his 
 tenderest point ; for he had failed — failed
 
 262 THE minister's son. 
 
 utterly in duty and in attaining tlie ends 
 for whicli he had schooled himself as well 
 as his son, since the lad had found only 
 lack of human love where he had intended 
 him to find love of the right. And now, 
 if he had been mistaken, it was too late to 
 amend. The boy was boy no longer, and 
 in a few short months would be banished 
 to a distant land where he would be sur- 
 rounded with temptations of the kind his 
 father most dreaded. 
 
 " Not too late ; " his wife's imploring face 
 is lifted to his, and she says gently, tenderly, 
 " If Eonald could come- — would you wish it, 
 would it be anything of a comfort to you ? " 
 
 '^ It would indeed ; but it cannot be." 
 
 " It can, and it shall. He can get leave 
 — furlough for a fortnight, perhaps more. 
 He wanted to come "... she stopped 
 abruptly. 
 
 ''And feared I did not wish it — was 
 that it?"
 
 A FRESH START. 263 
 
 She stroked his hand for all reply ; add- 
 ing presently, "Write to him yourself, 
 James, will you ? tell him to come — the 
 poor boy/' 
 
 "I will, wife, before I rest this night. 
 Poor wife ! you have suffered — we must 
 comfort each other." 
 
 Nancy had come to the door with the 
 tray, but had wisely retired. And now, 
 when the minister rang for candles, she 
 was, as she expressed it, fair dumfoun- 
 dered at the change on the face o' the mis- 
 tress. But the new light in the dim eyes, 
 and the alert movements of the tall fio-ure, 
 were explained when Mrs Bennett whis- 
 pered to her that night, "Nancy, Master 
 Eonald is coming home to see us." 
 
 Mr Bennett's letter to his son was brief, 
 and from another parent would have seemed 
 cold. But Eonald would have detected a 
 difference in its tone, even without his 
 mother's hasty note of explanation and
 
 264 THE minister's SON. 
 
 entreaty that he would believe himself 
 mistaken, and try and feel more kindly 
 to his father. 
 
 ''You and he are alike," she wrote; 
 '' why is it that you cannot understand 
 each other better?" 
 
 There was truth in this, as Ronald felt ; 
 and as he lay awake on his hard pallet-bed, 
 and thought over his father's devotion to 
 his work, and the patient training he had 
 bestowed upon him in the confident hope 
 that he too would follow on the same path, 
 he realised more fully than before the 
 bitterness of the disappointment he had 
 caused. 
 
 It had needed but a kindly word on 
 Bennett's part to touch the better nature 
 in the lad, already roused by his mother's 
 visit, and the sight of her regret at the 
 prospect before him ; and he answered 
 his father's note almost afi'ectionately. He 
 would come now, or later, whichever should
 
 A FRESH STAET. 265 
 
 seem best ; but if now, he might not be 
 able to get away again before sailing for 
 India : would it be best to wait till nearer 
 that time ? 
 
 The mother — hungering for his presence 
 — could not defer the happiness so newly 
 promised to her ; and Bennett was anxious 
 to see his son quickly and clear away, if it 
 might be, the painful impressions he had 
 expressed regarding him, and therefore a 
 second letter begged him to come as soon 
 as he could obtain his furlough, and for as 
 long a time as could be granted to him. 
 
 It was with a curious mixture of feelings 
 that Eonald took his place in the train that 
 was to bear him home. Hitherto it had 
 seemed as though he had lived two lives, 
 separated from each other by a trench- 
 ant line, — a line drawn at the hour he 
 surrendered himself to the recruiting -ser- 
 geant. Up to that hour he had not cast 
 away irretrievably his old self. Though he
 
 266 THE minister's son. 
 
 had left his home, there was the possibility 
 of return still open to him, however little 
 he had intended to avail himself of it ; but 
 since then he had been bound without 
 escape to new habits, new companions, 
 and new ideas, and had been tried by 
 quite new standards of excellence. Now 
 he was going to make, as it were, a tie and 
 link between the new life and the old ; and 
 it w^as not without a certain subdued ex- 
 citement that he contemplated returning 
 with such a purpose to the place and the 
 faces that had so long been familiar to him. 
 He thought, perhaps, less of the probable 
 reconciliation with his father than his 
 mother at least would have wished or 
 expected. It was part of the condition 
 of things that Mr Bennett had prepared 
 for himself that his son had become inde- 
 pendent of him. Ten years ago, as a boy 
 full of ambition and hot impulse, Eonald 
 would have yielded himself eagerly to the
 
 A FRESH START. 267 
 
 influence of a parent who had shown him 
 sympathy, as well as given him advice. 
 But the sympathy was never forthcoming, 
 the advice was couched in harsh and for- 
 bidding phrases, and, thrown back upon 
 himself, he learned to stand alone ; so that 
 now, when his father yearned for something 
 like friendship with him, he had nothing 
 better than courtesy to offer. 
 
 His arrival created a little excitement in 
 the village, where a uniform was rarely or 
 never seen. As he came alons: the road 
 that for the last half-mile ran straight, 
 past low shops and thatched cottages, to- 
 wards the manse, some of the bairns eatiug 
 their " pieces '' at the doors saw him. They 
 watched him for a while with curiosity, not 
 recognising at first what the white-coated 
 figure might be as it passed quickly from 
 sunshine to shadow under each succeeding 
 tree. 
 
 " Whatll it be, Jeannie ? " asked a wee
 
 268 THE minister's son. 
 
 thing, letting the jelly drop unheeded on 
 her pinafore as she gazed. 
 
 "I dinna ken," replied the elder girl, 
 gravely ; then as a brilliant idea flashed 
 upon her, she exclaimed, '' It's like yon 
 man in white — the clown they ca'd him — 
 that cam aince wi' a travellin' van. Ye 
 canna mind o' that, Meg," she added, with 
 pride in her longer experience. 
 
 " Eh ! ye dinna ken mickle, Jeannie 
 M'Kenzie. Yon's jist a sodger," said a 
 boy, coming up ; and instantly the two 
 lassies ran in to their respective homes 
 with the cry, *'Mither! there's a sodger 
 comin' doon the road." 
 
 *' A sodger ! " cried Jamie Paterson, jumping 
 up and coming out to his door; " whaur is he?" 
 
 Pushing his spectacles up on his brow, 
 and shading his eyes with his hands, he 
 peered at the advancing figure. " Ay, 
 ay ; it's him, sure eneuch, and a gude- 
 lookin' lad he is."
 
 A FRESH START. 269 
 
 " Wha, Jamie ? wha is^t ? " 
 
 " Hoot ! did ye no hear it's Ronald Ben- 
 nett ? Nancy telFt me he was comin'." 
 
 " Eh my ! " " Losh ! " and other exclama- 
 tions, testified to the general astonishment, 
 and several gazers were assembled by the 
 time Eonald was near the first house. 
 
 Looking up to Paterson's doorway, he 
 observed the bent figure in the leather 
 apron, and took off* his cap — a greeting 
 to which Jamie eagerly responded. But 
 Ronald did not intend to pause among his 
 old acquaintances before he had entered the 
 manse, and turned off" by a short cut which 
 took him behind the houses to the back gate. 
 
 " Ay, he's awa' hame — richt eneuch ; we'll 
 see him in a whilie," said Jamie, and 
 returned to his bench, while the loiterers 
 gradually dispersed. 
 
 Mrs Bennett was at the window watch- 
 ing the path to the garden-gate, and was 
 taken by surprise when Ronald came round
 
 270 THE minister's SON. 
 
 the corner of the house suddenly upon her. 
 He was in the little passage before she could 
 reach the door, and even as she threw her 
 arms round him, she observed afresh that 
 he was taller and broader than when he 
 left home — altogether a different figure from 
 the long-limbed lad whose awkward gait 
 had often vexed her motherly pride. 
 
 Nancy was at hand for her share of greet- 
 ing ; and that over, Eonald went into the 
 sitting-room, and almost started at the sound 
 of repressed emotion in his father's voice as 
 he said, laying a hand on his shoulder — 
 
 "My son, I am glad to see you again at 
 home ! " 
 
 " Thank you, father," replied Eonald, with 
 a strong clasp of the hand ; and then Mrs 
 Bennett pushed him gently into her own 
 chair, and fondled and rejoiced over him, 
 talking confusedly the while, in her excite- 
 ment, of the dinner that she and Nancy had 
 prepared.
 
 A FEESH START. 271 
 
 " In fact, mother/' said he, addressing 
 her, but looking at his father, ^^ you are 
 slaying the fatted calf, are you not, for the 
 prodigal son ? " 
 
 She did not answer, but turned also to 
 her husband, as though the appeal should 
 be replied to by him. 
 
 *' Konald," he said, with a slight effort, 
 '' there are words that had better be said 
 at once. It appears to me, my boy, that 
 there has been, I may say, a lifelong mis- 
 understanding between us. I judge by your 
 own words to your mother." 
 
 " I said no more to her than I have al- 
 ways felt, sir," replied Eonald, using uncon- 
 sciously the mode of address to which he 
 was now accustomed. His father noticed 
 the little word, and felt it to be a sort of 
 tacit acknowledgment such as he had never 
 received before from his impatient boy. 
 
 " Being your father, the fault must have 
 been in some degree mine, but not entirely.
 
 272 THE minister's son. 
 
 I cannot admit that your behaviour has 
 been justified." 
 
 ^' I could not expect you to admit it, sir. 
 I am only too well aware of my own folly, 
 not in declining to enter the Kirk, but in 
 running away and rejecting help. I was 
 mad, I think." 
 
 A kindly touch on his shoulder expressed 
 Mrs Bennett's sympathy ; she guessed in 
 what disappointed love that folly and mad- 
 ness had originated, and, womanlike, pitied 
 rather than blamed him. 
 
 Bennett once more held out his hand. 
 "That being so, let bygones be bygones, 
 and let us strive to make the future as fair 
 as may be. You know I dislike the pro- 
 fession you have chosen, but I would have 
 you do your duty in it. Perhaps you may 
 enable me to think better of it," said he, 
 with a somewhat melancholy smile. 
 
 '' I hope I may, father. I hated it my- 
 self at first, being, as you know, somewhat
 
 A FRESH START. 273 
 
 averse to discipline ; but I have begun to 
 take a pride in it, and — who knows ? — I may 
 vf'm honours some day. I feel as if things 
 must go better with me, now that they are 
 right here." Voice and eye said moi^ than 
 the mere words in this speech ; and whatever 
 might be the difference of tastes and opin- 
 ions, there were at least peace and goodwill 
 under the roof of the manse that day. 
 
 It was not long before Konald found his 
 Avay to the shoemaker's little shop, where 
 Jamie, looking at him with kindly eyes, 
 spoke curtly, as is the way with the canny 
 Scot when his heart is touched. 
 
 " There's mair o' you come hame than 
 gaed awa', there's nae denyin' that," said he. 
 
 " Yes ; so it seems. Every one says I've 
 grown, Jamie, as though I were a bit laddie 
 home from school." 
 
 '* Humph ! That's jist what ye are, Fm 
 thinking, neither mair nor less; yeVe had 
 yere palmies, nae doobt, in the shape o' het 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 THE minister's SON. 
 
 words and maybe a wlieen extiy drills — 
 eh?'' 
 
 "You're no far wrong, Jamie," said 
 Eonald, greatly amused, but also a trifle 
 nettled at liis reception. 
 
 " It's a braw coat, though ; and they say 
 pride disna feel pain," continued Jamie. '' I 
 had a fancy for it mysel when I was a lad- 
 die ; but eh, I couldna thole the life, — at- 
 tention here and attention there, and touch 
 your cap to this yane and that yane : my 
 certie ! I'd raither turn cadger than sodger, 
 for a' the braws and the music and the 
 crowds rinnin' after ye ! There's mair sound 
 nor sense aboot it, to my idea." 
 
 •' Well, Jamie, since my coat pleases you 
 so little, maybe ye'd prefer my room to my 
 company," said Ronald, rising. 
 
 " Hoot, man ! sit doon, and dinna fash 
 yoursel. D'ye no ken my bark's waur nor 
 my bite ? I'd jist like to be sure, if it's no 
 speirin' owre mickle — I'd like to be satis-
 
 A FRESH STAET. 275 
 
 feed that it wasna ony o' my havers that 
 helpit ye to turn sodger 1 " 
 
 "Not a bit — not a word that you said 
 helped me, Jamie ; it was just my own con- 
 founded wrong-headedness that drove me 
 to it. But why ? were you vexed about 
 itl" 
 
 " Ou ay ! naething by ordinar' ; but 
 hoot ! it's nae guid tellin' lees when nae- 
 thing's to come o't. Ay, laddie, I was sair 
 doonhairted when ye gaed aw a' in yon wud 
 kind o' a way ; and I'd hae been awfu' pit 
 aboot if I'd thocht that ony hairm had 
 come o' oor cracks thegither. Mistress 
 Bennett was that changed — her that used 
 to be as straught as a birk, gaed up the 
 street wi' her heid booed and her feet 
 scrapin' like an auld, auld woman ; and I 
 wadna like to hae had a han' in it, ye see." 
 
 '' Never fear, Jamie ; it's all my doing — 
 none of yours," said Ronald sadly, for the 
 graphic description touched him. "But,"
 
 276 THE minister's SON. 
 
 he added, brightening, "I hope you'll see 
 her looking more like her old self again 
 now. My father and I have made it up, 
 Jamie, and I mean to do well yet in spite 
 of the red coat that you despise." 
 
 '' Na, na ; yon's no a word for a body like 
 me : there's a kind o' a moral soun aboot 
 it, and there's naebody can say auld Jamie 
 Paterson wes sae doom's sure o' his ain 
 morals that he culd be owre perjinkity 
 aboot his neebor's. Let that flee stick to 
 the wa', as Kab Eoy says." 
 
 The grave air with which the shoemaker 
 uttered this speech moved Konald to laugh- 
 ter, and presently the two were talking as 
 unrestrainedly as in old days; and the 
 conversation must have been gratifying to 
 Jamie, for when his visitor rose to go, he 
 dropped his work on to his knee, and held 
 out a grimy hand. 
 
 "Weel, ye'll come back, — yell aye find 
 me here. I've turned real hard-working this
 
 A FRESH STAET. 277 
 
 Avhile back, and there's a heap o' siller in 
 the auld kist yonder. I was thinkin' o' pit- 
 tin' it in the bank ; but Fm amaist afeared 
 I'd no ken mysel. It wad be a terrible 
 thing if I heard the folk say that auld Jamie 
 had turned respectable ! " 
 
 There was a pawkie twinkle in the old 
 man's eye as he spoke, and Eon aid hardly 
 knew how much truth there might be in his 
 statement ; but on inquiry he found that a 
 wonderful amount of business had been done 
 of late in the little shop, and that some of 
 Paterson's cronies had been heard to com- 
 plain that there was no good in going down 
 there now, for that old Jamie was '* as quiet 
 as a cock that durstn't craw." What was 
 it that had wrought the change ? No one 
 could answer that question, but it was just 
 after Miss Muriel's wedding that he had 
 begun to work. 
 
 By-and-by Konald ventured to ask Jamie 
 himself what had induced him to alter his
 
 278 THE minister's SON. 
 
 mode of life, but lie only received an eva- 
 sive answer. 
 
 It was on a certain Sabbath afternoon 
 that, having strolled towards the hill, Eon- 
 aid spied Jamie smoking a pipe at the 
 bridge-end, with two or three companions. 
 Joining the group, he found himself soon 
 left alone with the shoemaker, whom he 
 gradually led on to talk of what had hap- 
 pened in the village during the last few 
 months, and of the festivities at Muriel's 
 marriage. It was clear that some hidden 
 thought gave a special interest to Jamie's 
 account of that tiuie, and at last it found 
 expression. 
 
 After describing his own efforts to honour 
 the bride, and the bonny smile she gied 
 him as she passed, he continued, " An' she 
 wrote to me hersel to thank me for the bit 
 slippers I made till her, — a wee bit notie on 
 tented paper, and sic a canty freendly way 
 she has o' sayin' a thing, — I hae it yet."
 
 A FRESH START. 279 
 
 Here he paused, either to invite a question, 
 or from some hesitation. 
 
 " What did she say 1 " asked Eonald, 
 curious and interested. 
 
 " Weel, she askit me as a sort o' kind- 
 ness to her and her faither, if I wud try 
 to keep frae whusky for sax months, and 
 let her see me when she comes back, what 
 she ca's a self-respectin man ; and she sent 
 me a bit poetry. A queer kind o' language 
 it's written in, but I made it oot, and it 
 sort o' shamed me. The ' Northern Cobbler ' 
 they ca'd it. An' that's the way I've dune 
 sic a lot o' work this while back. I'm no 
 gaun to bind mysel to ony temperance 
 pledges, or mak ony promises. I'll keep 
 my leeberty, and tak my giaiss when I wull ; 
 but I jist thocht I micht try an experiment 
 like. I wadna be onceevil to yon lassie, for 
 she's aye been ceevil to me." 
 
 "I think pledges are crutches for crip- 
 ples at their best," said Eonald ; '' but you
 
 280 THE minister's SON. 
 
 could not well refuse to do what she asks 
 
 you." 
 
 " That's it. It wadna be weel-bred no 
 to try," replied Jamie, who, beneath his 
 rough ways, had very decided views as to 
 conduct, and especially as to the kind of 
 behaviour which in his eyes constituted a 
 gentleman. Muriel's tact had recognised 
 this hidden point in his character, and treat- 
 ing him with the courtesy of a high-bred 
 lady, she had obtained an ascendancy over 
 him that she herself was far from suspect- 
 ing, and that no one else had ever succeeded 
 in winning. 
 
 Even Konald was surprised at its extent. 
 He had been both too boyish and too self- 
 occupied to observe the ready politeness 
 with which Paterson would rise and touch 
 his cap to Muriel as any of her equals might 
 have done — an amount of courtesy he did 
 not bestow on any one else. Neither had 
 he discovered that the old man cherished a
 
 A FRESH START. 281 
 
 warm respect and liking for the fair girl, 
 whose face, as Mrs Bennett used to say, 
 was as welcome as summer in every house 
 that she frequented. 
 
 As he bade Jamie good night, and saun- 
 tered homeward, he thought over the con- 
 versation that had passed with something 
 like shame. For the sake of a kind word 
 and note, Jamie Paterson was making a 
 struggle against the idle and unsteady habits 
 which had mastered him for years ; and 
 though there was little hope of his success, 
 the effort deserved respect. He had ac- 
 knowledged Muriel's influence as it deserved 
 to be acknowledged, and in doing so he had 
 done her true honour; while Eonald himself, 
 with as many advantages on his side as 
 Jamie had had difficulties on his, had allowed 
 himself to indulge in a mad passion which 
 had overcome his brain, and deadened his 
 heart to duty and right. 
 
 His cheek burned with hot self-reproach
 
 282 THE minister's SON. 
 
 as he reflected that he had played but a 
 cowardly part throughout, and acknowledg- 
 ing humbly that he had proved himself un- 
 fit for any better post, he strengthened his 
 resolve to do his utmost in the profession 
 he had chosen. Though he did not know 
 it, there was therefore every prospect of 
 success for him, since self-knowledge and 
 self-mastery are the first steps on the ladder 
 of achievement — steps that can neither be 
 overleapt nor trodden wdth uncertain feet.
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 
 
 The time of Ronald's furlough passed aT\^ay 
 only too quickly, but tlie heavy air of 
 depression that had hung about the manse 
 passed away with it. Mrs Bennett, as he 
 had prophesied, no longer " scraped " her 
 feet along the village footpath, but held her 
 head erect, and exchanged a cheerful good- 
 day with the cottagers' wives. Nancy no 
 longer slunk home in silence from her mar- 
 ketings, ashamed to face the inquiries and 
 comments of her friends, but stopped for a 
 chat as of old ; and it was even remarked 
 that the minister's sermons breathed less of 
 terror and more of peace.
 
 284 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Ronald therefore might take his depart- 
 ure with a lighter heart, and, if possible, 
 with a deeper affection for the home which, 
 since he was no longer a resident under its 
 roof, had become to him something of a 
 sacred place. 
 
 His mother, though she had longed to 
 question him as to his feeling for Muriel, 
 had not ventured to do so, some indefinable 
 warning in voice or face checking her if she 
 approached too near the forbidden subject; 
 but she saw with satisfaction that whether 
 he had conquered or forgotten his love for 
 her, he was at least able to speak of her as 
 an old friend might speak. 
 
 Sir Duncan was at Ardenshaugh until 
 within two days of the expiry of Eonald's 
 leave, but came immediately after his return 
 to see him, and to give Mrs Bennett the 
 latest news of Muriel's happy life. He, too, 
 observed that Ronald bore himself well dur- 
 ing this part of the conversation, joining in
 
 - EASTWARD HO ! 285 
 
 it, and even, with a hardly perceptible effort, 
 mentioning Mrs Leslie by name. He was 
 glad that it should be so — glad that this 
 lad, whom he had always liked, had been 
 able to overcome a love that was as incon- 
 gruous as it was romantic ; and he, too, 
 augured well for his future. 
 
 '•' Come up and see me to-morrow. Eon- 
 aid," said he ; " come to lunch — at the usual 
 hour." 
 
 " Thanks, Sir Duncan — I would rather 
 not," replied Ronald, quietly. 
 
 " Why ? — ah, it is your last day with your 
 mother," replied Sir Duncan, glancing from 
 him to Mrs Bennett. 
 
 *' It is, but that is not my reason." 
 
 '' What is it, then 1 " 
 
 ^' A foolish one perhaps, — but I cannot 
 feel it so. When I am a colour-sergeant, Sir 
 Duncan — that's to say, when I have risen 
 as high as I can rise — if you choose to ask 
 me, I shall gladly come. At present I
 
 286 THE minister's SON. 
 
 should feel ashamed of my uniform, not 
 for its own sake — I don't mean that — but 
 ashamed of myself for wearing it." 
 
 "Well, I can understand that to a cer- 
 tain extent, though you know I think her 
 Majesty's uniform an honourable dress." 
 
 /' So do I, Sir Duncan. Every soldier 
 should think so. But I don't think I am 
 wrong in saying that this grade of it is not 
 what I should be proud of wearing." 
 
 '' No, you are right enough there. Well, 
 I am sorry not to see you again, but the 
 feeling is natural. All I can say is, the 
 sooner I see the colours on your sleeve the 
 better pleased I shall be, and you won't be 
 too proud to sit at my table then. Good- 
 bye, my boy ! " 
 
 " Good-bye, Sir Duncan, and thank you," 
 said Eonald ; " I don't think you blame my 
 pride." 
 
 '' No, I don't know that I do," said Sir 
 Duncan, smiling ; and turning to Mrs Ben-
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 287 
 
 nett, he promised to come and see her 
 oftener, as he would be at home for the 
 present, after Eon aid should have gone. 
 *' You will want cheering up again when 
 you are alone." 
 
 '' Yes, I shall — but less than before, Sir 
 Duncan, for my boy is not unhappy, and 
 there is no discord now at our hearth." 
 
 Thus the mother's love was prepared to 
 take comfort even in sorrow and loneliness, 
 since the boy's eyes were brighter, and the 
 father's mind at rest. 
 
 While Eonald was still in Edinburgh, 
 Captain Leslie's leave expired, and it be- 
 came necessary for him and his bride to 
 start for India, where his resfiment was 
 stationed. With money at command, they 
 could afford to travel in comfort, and had 
 no need to submit to the ordeal of a voyage 
 on board a troopship. They sailed, there- 
 fore, by P. & 0., arranging to spend a few 
 days at Malta on the way.
 
 288 THE minister's SON. 
 
 Muriel enjoyed her halt at the bright 
 little town of Valetta, and spent her time 
 in rambling about, and in making purchases 
 of lace and silver. She and her husband 
 were walking about the castle, where huge 
 circular stones mark the mouth of the vault 
 in which grain is or ought to be stored 
 against the contingency of a siege, when, 
 looking out to sea, they observed a white- 
 painted bulky trooper entering the harbour. 
 
 ^' By Jove, there's the Euphrates ! " said 
 Leslie ; " I must go on board, and get 
 Harry Hammond to come and dine with 
 us. I believe there's a draft of the 2d High- 
 landers too. Perhaps your friend Bennett 
 may be among them." 
 
 " Oh, Frank, do you think so "? Couldn't 
 we see him ? I should like to do so if I can." 
 
 " Privates don't go on shore as a rule, 
 but perhaps it might be managed. I can't 
 ask him to dine with Hammond, though — 
 that would never do."
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 289 
 
 " He can come and have afternoon tea, 
 then — there would surely be no harm in 
 that." 
 
 '*I will see; I 'do not know that he is 
 there, I only thought he might be. Do you 
 go home, dear, and I will run down to the 
 ship." 
 
 Eonald was on board, and as an especial 
 favour to Major Hammond and his friend 
 Captain Leslie, he was permitted to go on 
 shore for a couple of hours. He was taken 
 completely by surprise, for he had no idea 
 that the Leslies were at Malta, but the in- 
 vitation gave him keen pleasure, proving, 
 as it did, that Muriel's friendly feelings had 
 not been diminished by her marriage, nor, 
 which he had thought more probable, by 
 that rash letter which Mrs Simpson had 
 so long concealed. To the surprise of his 
 comrades, he stepped into one of the little 
 green boats that crowded round the ship, 
 with Captain Leslie and his companion, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 THE minister's SON. 
 
 carefully taking bis place on the farthest 
 bench, and not speaking unless addressed. 
 
 On landing, Leslie directed him to the 
 hotel, and turned with his friend into a 
 cafL He was pleased with Ronald's good 
 taste, and his ready acceptance of his posi- 
 tion, but he judged that both he and Muriel 
 would be more at their ease if they were to 
 meet unobserved by a stranger. 
 
 Ronald could not see her unmoved, yet 
 the feeling that quickened his pulse, as he 
 entered the room, was very unlike the en- 
 grossing and overmastering passion that 
 had shaken him when they parted some 
 eighteen months ago. He was able now 
 to look her in the face, and speak to her 
 with as much calmness and self-possession 
 as she herself showed. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Ronald." 
 
 " How very good of you to let me come, 
 Mrs Leslie ! " 
 
 Nothing could be more natural and easy
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 291 
 
 than the salutation on both sides, and 
 Muriel, greatly relieved to see that the 
 moody, anxious expression she remembered 
 had given place to a look of quiet purpose, 
 fell at once, and with evident pleasure, into 
 her usual chat about home and friends. 
 
 The time passed quickly, and as Eonald 
 looked round the cool, spacious room, he 
 gave a sigh of relief. " How delightful this 
 is after the trooper. Our accommodation 
 there is somewhat of the scantiest." 
 
 "Yes, how dreadful it must be," replied 
 Muriel, with sympathy in her tones. 
 
 " Oh, not so bad as that ; and after all, it 
 is only for thirty days. There are plenty of 
 good fellows among the men, and it is only 
 the nights that are really very disagreeable." 
 
 '^ At leasts you mean to make the best of 
 it, I can see that." 
 
 " I hope so ; and I am looking forward 
 to the novelty of Indian life." 
 
 ^' So am I," said Muriel, and Eonald
 
 292 THE minister's SON. 
 
 smiled, and thought how differently that 
 Indian life would appear to him and to 
 her : he had read enough to know, though 
 he spoke cheerfully, that the soldier experi- 
 ences all the discomforts, and tastes few or 
 none of the pleasures, of existence in Hin- 
 dustan. 
 
 Leslie and Hammond came in before 
 very long, and now Ronald allowed him- 
 self to drop the soldier and talk as a guest. 
 Leslie chatted for a while of the places to 
 which they were bound, and his friend 
 joined in the conversation, though with a 
 sense of the oddness of the position, as he 
 recalled to mind certain phrases that had 
 escaped him a night or two before, when 
 Corporal Bennett had come under his dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 Ronald had no wish to outstay his wel- 
 come, and feeling that the great object of 
 his visit was attained, he soon rose and 
 took his leave.
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 293 
 
 "You need not go yet," said Leslie, 
 glancing at the clock. 
 
 "No, but I should like to see somethiDo* 
 of the town as I have the opportunity, 
 thanks to you and Mrs Leslie, so I think I 
 will say good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye, Eonald ; I shall write to your 
 mother to-night," said Muriel. 
 
 " Thank you — she will know how I have 
 enjoyed this visit," said he. 
 
 "A pleasant looking fellow,'' remarked 
 Hammond, afterwards. *' I wonder if he 
 remembers how I rated him, when we were 
 in the bay. A lot of us were sea-sick, and 
 our tempers were short enough that night." 
 
 " He's improved, — the service has done 
 him a world of good," replied Leslie, and 
 his wife did not dissent. 
 
 The 2d Highlanders were quartered in the 
 very popular little station of Hubblepore, 
 and Eonald welcomed with relief the first 
 sipjht of the tall, red brick barracks that
 
 294 THE minister's SOX. 
 
 were to be their abode. Anything, however, 
 would have been a pleasant change after 
 their experience of days passed in a troop- 
 train, where they were shunted for long 
 hours into sidings, baked by the midday 
 sun, choked with the fine red dust that 
 covered every corner of the carriages, and 
 landed at night in desolate-looking rest- 
 camps, where the empty tents and sun-dried 
 soil gave little promise of comfort or repose. 
 Hubblepore was a favourite station with 
 officers and ladies, and, in a less degree, 
 with the men also. There were mango 
 topes and spreading banyan trees in the 
 vicinity of the barracks, where shade was 
 to be found on a hot evening ; there were 
 jheels, or swamps, where those who could 
 buy or borrow a gun might shoot snipe and 
 wild duck. Hares and quail were to be 
 picked up now and again by the lucky 
 sportsman, while for others there were 
 pursuits of different kinds.
 
 EASTWAED HO ! 295 
 
 Men who had been in the hills had made 
 collections of butterflies, and some endeav- 
 oured to fill up their boxes with beetles 
 and insects. The few who cared to read 
 found a fair library in the regiment, and 
 for the many to whom graver pursuits were 
 distasteful there were sundry amusements, 
 including weekly sports which, though 
 poor enough in themselves, varied the mon- 
 otony of the long days. 
 
 Tug of war was then in full swing, races 
 of every kind took place, and the native 
 cavalry would enliven the scene with an 
 exhibition of tent-pegging and lemon-cut- 
 ting ; or the ladies and gentlemen who came 
 in the course of their evening ride to see 
 the fun, would finish the performance by 
 riding over the "cavalry jumps." 
 
 It was a pretty sight to see the varied 
 crowd that gathered on these occasions, — the 
 English soldiers in their hot weather attire 
 of spotless white ; the native cavalry in their
 
 296 THE minister's SON. 
 
 dark tunics and handsome blue turbans ; 
 the ladies — many of them first-rate horse- 
 women — sitting their pretty arabs to per- 
 fection, while those who did not aspire to 
 ride stepped out of their carriages in the 
 freshest and coolest of summer costumes, 
 and smiled and flirted over their ices as 
 though the thermometer had not been 
 standing indoors at 97° a few hours ago, 
 and mosquitoes and other insect plagues 
 were unknown. 
 
 Eonald took a vigorous share in the 
 games, where his active habits stood him 
 in good stead, but it was in the cold 
 weather that he found occupation most 
 readily. 
 
 The men of the 2d were great in theatri- 
 cals, and they soon discovered that no one 
 among them could speak as well, or act as 
 easily, as Corporal Bennett. To him, there- 
 fore, was always assigned the part of the 
 principal gentleman, lover, king, or states-
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 297 
 
 man, and so well did lie please the not very 
 critical audience that he was by-and-by 
 asked to fill a chance vacancy when the 
 officers and ladies of the station began a 
 series of entertainments. 
 
 There v/as a little discussion in their 
 committee before this important step was 
 taken, but the leading spirit of the club, an 
 enthusiastic actor, settled the question by 
 declaring that they were surely strong 
 enough to be able to choose a private 
 soldier, if he were a good performer, — espec- 
 ially as he was a gentleman by birth, too, — 
 in preference to a bad actor, although he 
 happened to be a deputy -commissioner — 
 this being the other alternative. 
 
 The ladies were delighted with Corporal 
 Bennett, he was so courteous, so thoroughly 
 at his ease, without being forward ; so 
 good-looking, too, especially in powder. 
 Who and what was he 1 A gentleman ? 
 What a romance ! How miserable he must
 
 298 THE minister's SON. 
 
 be, poor fellow ! said they ; and under this 
 idea Eonald was petted and talked to by 
 the pretty amateurs, who ignored the fact 
 that no trace of misery, or even of depres- 
 sion, was to be seen on his handsome face, 
 and at last, in the fulness of their pity, they 
 entered his name on the list of the Hubble- 
 pore theatrical club. He was in conse- 
 quence forced to abandon almost entirely 
 the soldiers' dramatic club, in which he 
 had won his first laurels, but his comrades 
 took his desertion as a matter of course, 
 and contented themselves with chafiing 
 him good-humouredly, after they had seen 
 him play a lover's part with the prettiest 
 girl in the station, who had indeed in- 
 sisted on his taking it, in order to exclude 
 a gentleman whom she disliked. 
 
 Eonald himself enjoyed his life amaz- 
 ingly, — he knew well enough that such op- 
 portunities would not have come in his 
 way, had the regiment been at home, and
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 299 
 
 was quite sufficiently susceptible to the 
 attention he received ; in fact, could Jamie 
 Paterson have seen him as he strolled 
 of an evening down the cross-road, by 
 which the riders on the Mall were wont to 
 pass, he would have laughed one of his 
 broad lausfhs at the sio;ht. The well-made 
 uniform was worn so neatly, the glengarry 
 was set so jauntily " on three hairs,'' the 
 natty little cane and well-kept boots made 
 him altogether so unlike the Eonald he 
 knew, who cared as little for his appearance 
 as he did for the smiles of the professor's 
 daughters, who, however, if the truth must 
 be told, were scarcely as fair or as piquante 
 as the amateur actresses of the Hubblepore 
 club. 
 
 Other attractions w^ere not wanting, and 
 perhaps, but for his boyish love, Eonald 
 might have married the pretty daughter of 
 the sergeant-major, whose battery was quar- 
 tered beside the 2d, and, on getting his
 
 300 THE minister's SON. 
 
 promotion, might have settled down as a 
 member of the sergeants' mess. The girl 
 was good as well as pretty, and thought 
 more of the popular Corporal than was for 
 her peace ; nor did her friends fail to 
 make him aware of the fact, but they did 
 not elicit the response they hoped, and per- 
 haps thought him conceited, whereas his 
 genuine ^pity for the girl helped to cure 
 that incipient failing. 
 
 It humbled him to feel that more un- 
 happiness lay at his door than he had 
 already caused in his far-away home, but 
 he had no love to offer : he had loved 
 Muriel Forbes, and though she was a dream 
 of the past — a being quite separated in his 
 mind from Mrs Leslie who had received 
 him at Malta — he could not turn away from 
 her and think of another woman as his 
 wife. 
 
 So Ellen Smith braided her long fair 
 hair, and wore her nice dresses in vain
 
 EASTWARD HO ! 301 
 
 when she went to the theatre, or to a 
 soldiers' dance ; and though she had ad- 
 mirers in plenty, and was complimented 
 till she was weary, neither her brown eyes, 
 her ripe lips, nor her plump figure and 
 good-tempered face made any impression 
 on the obdurate heart of Corporal Bennett 
 of the 2d ; and she had to learn her lesson 
 of patience, with greater patience than he 
 had bestowed on a similar page. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD A^T) SONS.
 
 /)'