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 EX LiBRiS 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Class 
 
 Book 
 
 •vw 
 
 Volume 
 
 1 
 
 Je 06-lOM
 
 MISS FERRIER'S NOVELS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 REGINALD BRIMLEY JOHNSON 
 
 IN SIX VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 First Edition, March \%()/\. 
 Second Edition, February '1<)0/^
 
 I ; ;>'
 
 V<r^U^^'
 
 THE 
 
 NOVELS or 
 
 SU SaN-ErOT^ONSTDNE 
 
 •FERRIHR 
 
 IN • SIX • -VOUJM^S • 
 VOL I 
 
 ^^HTH INTRODUCTIOJfV ^B?f• R 
 
 BTWDCgyjOHNSO?! 2V- ILI.USTRBTI02^S 
 
 •IN 
 
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 IONDON1904 
 
 ^STALDINE. HOUSE. BEDFORD -ST -^OV-G-
 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Portrait of Miss Ferrier . . . Frontispiece 
 
 She leant her cheek against the back 
 
 OF A chair, and gave WAY TO THE 
 
 anguish which mocked control . page 1 5 
 
 The arrival of Lady Maclauchlan . » 45 
 

 
 THOUGH written in 1810, Marriage was con- 
 siderably revised, and did not come out till 1 8 1 8. 
 Blackwood paid Miss Ferrier £,i$Oi and the 
 success of her novel was so decided that in 1824 he 
 was willing to give ;^Iooo for The Inheritance. Scott 
 undertook the financing of Destiny, which was dedicated 
 to him, and secured ;£i'joo from Cadell for it in 1 83 1. 
 
 Miss Ferrier afterwards sold her copyrights to Mr 
 Richard Bentley, who brought out an edition in 1841, 
 illustrated with a frontispiece and vignette to each novel 
 (J. Cause pinxt. W. Greatbatch sc.),"^ which was 
 reprinted, for the first time with the author's name, in 
 1 85 1. He also published a library edition (1881, 
 1882), which was reprinted from the first editions, and 
 contained a " Memoir " f with Miss Ferrier's Recol- 
 lections of visits to Ashestiel House and Ahhotsford, 
 Marriage was translated into French, and The Inherit" 
 ance was dramatised, but it had only a very short run 
 at Co vent Garden. 
 
 The text of the 1 841 edition was revised by the 
 authoress, and has therefore been adopted in the present 
 reprint. 
 
 The frontispiece is from a miniature by Thorburn, 
 which was taken in 1 836, at the age of fifty-two. Miss 
 Ferrier, however, told the artist to paint her as if she 
 were thirty years younger, and he seems to have con- 
 
 * These illustrations were rather caricatures, and Miss 
 Ferrier never liked them. 
 
 f Reprinted from Temple Bar, and written, I believe, by Mr 
 
 John Ferrier, great-nephew of Miss Ferrier and of Professor 
 
 John Wilson. 
 
 vii
 
 Vlll 
 
 scientiously made the attempt. It was twice Injured 
 and touched up by inferior hands but, in its present 
 condition, is said to be an admirable likeness, though 
 Miss Ferrier never cared for it herself. She was 
 Thorburn's first patron, and doubtless assisted in his 
 advancement. In 1836 she wrote to her sister, Mrs 
 Kinlock, " I have taken much to a young artist and 
 must bespeak your patronage for him also. He is from 
 Dumfries, has been studying here this three years, is 
 not yet eighteen, and is going to push his fortune in 
 London. I think him a prodigy of genius, though quite 
 a simple Scotch laddie, and as artless and unpretending 
 as a child. Better judges than I think much of his 
 talents, and a few years most likely will see him at the 
 top of his profession — he has so much taste and feeling." 
 The miniature is now in the possession of Mrs Tennent, 
 Miss Ferrier's niece, who has kindly given me per- 
 mission to have it reproduced. The bust, which was 
 taken after death, is in the possession of Mrs Ferrier of 
 Fulford, and has been reproduced, with her kind per- 
 mission, from a photograph belonging to Mr John 
 Ferrier. 
 
 For information on these matters, and for many 
 personal impressions, I am indebted to Mr John Ferrier, 
 who has most generously put at my disposal the manu- 
 scripts and anecdotes which he has been for many years 
 collecting. The letters, here printed, have been selected 
 from his collection of originals and copies, which in- 
 cludes twenty-eight to Miss Clavering, forty-eight to 
 Mrs Connell, one to Lady Charlotte Bury,* and a few 
 others. Those remaining are either family letters of 
 no general interest, or quasi-humorous effusions of an 
 inferior kind. Her style of wit is always the same, and 
 becomes wearisome by too much repetition. R. B. J. 
 
 * The only one hitherto printed, except those in the 
 " Memoir." It appeared in the Diary Illustrative of the Times 0/ 
 George the IFth., by Lady C. B. and Miss Sheridan.
 
 8 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 SUSAN EDMONSTONE FERRIER. 
 
 NO more than the barest outlines of Miss Ferrier's 
 life are on record, and, despite her intimacy with 
 men of note, the gaps cannot be filled in from 
 other memoirs. We learn that, as a child, she had a 
 great power of mimicry, and in the diary of Sir W, 
 Scott, that repertoire of generous testimonials, she is 
 described as " a gifted personage, having, besides her 
 great talents, conversation the least exigeante, of any 
 female author at least, whom I have ever seen among 
 the long list I have encountered ; simple, full of humour, 
 and exceedingly ready at repartee, and all this without 
 the least affectation of the blue-stocking.'* 
 
 There is a charming anecdote of her in Lockhart's 
 Life of Scotty which is the more valuable as the only 
 personal reminiscence hitherto printed. 
 
 During her last visit to Abbotsford, Scott 
 
 " would begin a story as gaily as ever, and go on, in spite of 
 the hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highly picturesque 
 effect ; but before he reached the point, it would seem as if 
 some internal spring had given way. He paused and gazed 
 round him with the blank anxiety of look that a blind man 
 has when he has dropped his staff. Unthinking friends 
 sometimes gave him the catch-word abruptly. I noticed the 
 delicacy of Miss Ferrier on such occasions . . . she affected 
 to be troubled with deafness, and would say, 'Well, I am 
 getting as dull as a post, I have not heard a word since so and 
 so,' being sure to mention a circumstance behind that at which 
 he had really halted. He then took up the thread with his 
 
 ix
 
 X SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 habitual smile of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely in 
 the consideration of the lady's infirmity." 
 
 Miss Ferrier could treat old age with tact and 
 sympathy, but she seems to have been little in touch 
 with her host's real character. The following descrip- 
 tion and comment is very typical of her attitude towards 
 life in general : — 
 
 " Every day Sir Walter was ready by one o'clock to accom- 
 pany us either in driving or walking, often in both, and in 
 either there was the same inexhaustible flow of legendary lore, 
 romantic incident, apt quotation, curious or diverting story ; 
 and sometimes old ballads were recited, commemorative of some 
 of the localities through which he passed. Those who had 
 seen him only amidst the ordinary avocations of life, or even 
 doing the honours of his own table, could scarcely have con- 
 ceived the fire and animation of his countenance at such times, 
 when his eyes seemed literally to kindle, and even (as some one 
 has remarked) to change their colour and become a sort of deep 
 sapphire blue. . . . Yet I must confess this was an enthusiasm I 
 found as little infectious as that of his antiquarianism. On the 
 contrary, I often ivished his noble faculties had been exercised on 
 loftier themes than those luhich seemed to stir his very soul.''' * 
 
 There are, indeed, some signs of priggishness and 
 pedantry in her novels, for the literary conversations of 
 her heroes and heroines are as self-conscious as, though 
 less amusing than, the inanities which she has satirised 
 at Mrs Bluemit's tea-party. But she was a citizen of 
 " the modern Athens," and breathed an atmosphere of 
 preciosity in which she learnt to speak of her friends 
 as—" The Wizard of the North," « The Man of 
 Feeling," " The Ploughman Poet," « The Monk," or 
 "Crusty Christopher;" and of her own nephew as 
 " the last of the metaphysicians." 
 
 Miss Ferrier was born in Edinburgh, Sep. 7, 1782, 
 being the youngest daughter of James Ferrier, Writer 
 
 * From the extremely dull " Recollections " of her two visits 
 to Scott, formerly mentioned.
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XI 
 
 to the Signet, who was a friend and colleague, as 
 Principal Clerk of the Session, of Sir Walter Scott. 
 He was also agent for the Argyll estates, and is several 
 times alluded to in Scott's Journal : 
 
 Jan. 19, 1827. " Uncle Adam,* mde Inheritance, who retired 
 last year from an official situation at the age of eighty-four, 
 although subject to fits of giddiness, and although carefully 
 watched by his accomplished daughter, is still in the habit of 
 walking by himself if he can by possibility make an escape. 
 The other day, in one of these excursions, he fell against a 
 lamp-post, cut himself much, bled a good deal, and was carried 
 home by two gentlemen. What said old Rugged-and-Tough ? 
 Why, that his fall against the post was the luckiest thing could 
 have befallen him, for the bleeding was exactly the remedy for 
 his disorder. 
 
 Lo ! stout hearts of men ! " 
 
 He died in 1829, and Scott wrote, "Honest old Mr 
 Ferrier is dead, at extreme old age. I confess I should 
 not wish to live so long. He was a man with strong 
 passions and strong prejudices, but with generous and 
 manly sentiments at the same time." He married a 
 Miss Coutts, the beautiful daughter of a farmer at 
 Gordon, near Montrose, and had ten children, of whom 
 the eldest married Miss Wilson, the sister of Christopher 
 North. 
 
 Miss Ferrier herself is said to have been a plain 
 v/oman, and rather sensitive of the fact ; but she was 
 proud of her very pretty feet. She was above the 
 average height, with abundant dark hair, rather high 
 colour, and a prominent white forehead. Lady Richard- 
 son wrote of her to Mr John Ferrier : — " I never was 
 so much struck as in her with the power of the fore- 
 head to express what was passing in the mind. In * 
 general we see it only as a part of the general aspect, 
 and although in intellectual and good people it usually 
 
 * This character in Miss Ferrier's The Inheritance is drawn 
 irom James Ferrier.
 
 XU SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 asserts its power, in Miss Ferrier it was the only part of 
 the face you saw, as she could not bear any light near 
 her ; the forehead was clear and white, although not 
 very wide ; but it had wonderful power when she spoke 
 or listened in expressing amusement and the coming 
 fun." As may be seen from the miniature, her mouth 
 was not good, and she had very high cheek-bones. 
 
 Her good taste in dress and the liveliness of her 
 conversation, however, enabled her to make a good 
 figure in the society she frequented, and she was rather 
 a popular young lady. Dr John Leyden, the Oriental 
 scholar and poet, is said to have proposed to her. She 
 moved in the best literary circles of Edinburgh, and 
 stayed occasionally in London,"^ but her ideas of fashion- 
 able society were mostly acquired at Inveraray Castle 
 and Rosneath, the homes of her father's patron, John, 
 fifth Duke of Argyll, his lovely Duchess, Elizabeth 
 Gunning, and their daughter, Lady Charlotte Bury. 
 She must have gained some hints, too, from the gossiping 
 letters of her great friend Miss Clavering,t the Duke's 
 niece, who was consulted in all her work, who wrote 
 **The History of Mrs Douglas" in Marriage (under 
 the influence of certain chapters in Miss Burney's 
 Cecilia), and who often visited the southern metropolis. 
 
 Miss Ferrier's health was always bad, and she suf- 
 fered a great deal from hei' eyes,| which may have 
 
 * Her last visit was in 1830 to an oculist, who was not able 
 to do her any good. She then spent a few days at Lord 
 Cassilis' villa in Isleworth, the original of " Woodlands " in 
 Destiny. 
 
 t Daughter of Lady Augusta Clavering, who afterwards 
 married Mr Miles Fletcher, but is better known, perhaps, as 
 Mrs Christison. 
 
 J It does not seem unlikely that she injured her eyes by 
 drawing and painting, of which she was very fond. Mr 
 Ferrier showed me an interesting coloured view of the High- 
 lands, executed at the age of thirteen, and a most carefully 
 shaded tree, done with the pencil, and dated 1 800.
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XIU 
 
 accounted in part for her harshness and general oddity. 
 I am told that visitors could never depend upon receiv- 
 ing any notice from Miss Ferrier, when " she was in 
 one of her moods," and there were many against whom 
 she had a permanent prejudice. These characteristics 
 belong, in all probability, to her later years, when she 
 became very religious and regretted the composition of 
 her novels. In those days, having retained her sense 
 of humour and powers of repartee, she was a very 
 formidable personage, and much dreaded by her younger 
 relations. A niece, who sometimes lived with her, was 
 compelled to find a bed elsewhere if she wished to go 
 to a ball or any other evening entertainment, as Miss 
 Ferrier would not have her household arrangements 
 disturbed on such a frivolous pretext.* 
 
 She was always much respected, though rather feared, 
 and apparently spent the greater part of her fortune in 
 charity. The fame of her novels brought many strangers 
 to visit her, but she " could not bear the fuss of author- 
 ism," and steadily refused to be lionised. For many 
 years she devoted herself almost exclusively to her 
 father, for whom she had the strongest affection, 
 and she became really necessary to his comfort. She 
 was obliged to refuse invitations, even from Miss 
 Clavering : — 
 
 '• I am doomed to doze away my days," she v^rrites, " by the 
 side of my solitary fire, and to spend my nights in the tender 
 intercourse of all the old tabbies in the town ! In truth, your 
 solitude is not a whit greater than mine, unless you reckon 
 jo«;z^ society ; of that I own I have enough — but somehow I don't 
 feel my spirits a bit exhilarated, my ideas at all enlivened, or 
 my understanding enlightened by the rattling of carriages or 
 
 * It was in a gentler mood that she said to her sister, 
 " Catherine, I don't know how it is that so many gentlemen 
 come about you. / never see a man, unless, perhaps, the 
 minister, the doctor, and occasionally a glazier."
 
 XIV SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 the clanking of chairs, and these be the only mortal sounds that 
 meet my ears. As to conversation, that's quite out of the 
 question at this season. In the dull summer months people 
 may find time to sit down and prose and talk sense a little, 
 but at present they've something else to do with their time. 
 
 " My father I never see save at meals, but then my company 
 is just as indispensable as the table cloth or chair, or, in short, 
 any other luxury which custom has converted into necessity. 
 That he could Iwe without me I make no doubt, so he could 
 without a leg or an arm, but it would ill become me to deprive 
 him of either; therefore, never even for a single day could I 
 reconcile it either to my duty or inclination to leave him." 
 
 She lived for twenty-five years after his death, 
 settling gradually into more complete retirement, and 
 died in 1854 at Edinburgh, having survived the greater 
 number of her friends. 
 
 Miss Ferrier wrote Marriage about 1810, at the age 
 of twenty-eight, and the other novels were ready for 
 publication in 1824 "^^^ ^^3' respectively. She was 
 frequently urged to publish again, and made " two at- 
 tempts to write something else, but could not please herself, 
 and would not publish anything^' This simple and unhesi- 
 tating decision certainly indicates a strength of mind and 
 a restraint as admirable as it is rare, and shows that she 
 had some knowledge of her own powers and limitations. 
 In fact, she depended so largely upon deliberate por- 
 traiture, that, in a life of limited experience, her stock 
 of models must soon have become exhausted. 
 
 Marriage contains a series of such portraits or cari- 
 catures, with slight connecting incidents. In The In- 
 heritance, as Mr Saintsbury puts it,* " the excellent 
 studies of character are bound together with a very 
 respectable cement of narrative," and in Destiny, the 
 technique is still better, though the book is overladen 
 with moralising, and contains fewer striking "originals." 
 
 It was to Miss Clavering that she confided her aims. 
 
 * Miss Ferrier's novels, The Fortnightly Review, March 1882.
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XV 
 
 The two ladies had some idea of working together, and 
 Miss Ferrier's collaboiator, it seems, had suggested a 
 plot which " wanted a moral." 
 
 "Now," she writes, "T don't think, like all penny, 
 book manufacturers, that 'tis absolutely necessary that the 
 good boys and girls should be rewarded, and the naughty 
 ones punished. Yet, I think, where there is much tribu- 
 lation, 'tis fitter it should be the consequence, rather than the 
 cause, of misconduct or frailty. You'll say that rule is 
 absurd, inasmuch as it is not observed in human life. 
 That I allow ; but we know the inflictions of Providence 
 are for wise purposes, therefore our reason willingly sub- 
 mits to them. But, as the only good purpose of a book is 
 to inculcate morality, and convey some lesson of instruction 
 as well as delight, I do not see that what is called a good 
 moral can be dispensed with in a work of fiction. ... I 
 do not recollect ever to have seen the sudden transition of a 
 high-bred English beauty, who thinks she can sacrifice all for 
 love, to an uncomfortable, solitary, Highland dwelling, among 
 tall, red-haired sisters and grim-faced aunts. Don't you think 
 this would make a good opening of the piece ? Suppose each 
 of us try our hands on it ; the moral to be deduced from that 
 is to warn all young ladies against runaway matches, and the 
 character and fate of the two sisters would be unexceptionable. 
 I expect it will be the first book every wise matron will put 
 into the hand of her daughter, and even the reviewers will 
 relax of their severity in favour of the morality of this little 
 work. Enchanting sight I already do I behold myself arrayed 
 in an old mouldy covering, thumbed and creased and filled 
 with dogs' ears. I hear the enchanting sound of some senti- 
 mental miss, the shrill pipe of some antiquated spinster, or the 
 hoarse grumbling of some incensed dowager as they severally 
 enquire for me at the circulating library, and are assured by 
 the master that 'tis in such demand that, though he has thir- 
 teen copies, they are insufficient to answer the calls upon it, 
 but that each of them may depend upon having the very first 
 that comes in ! ! ! " 
 
 The programme here sketched was carried out by 
 Miss Ferrier with tolerable exactness. Her moral 
 reflections, though trite and conventional, are very 
 sound J and she composes her plots on mechanical
 
 XVI SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 lines, which depend, tor the most part, upon start- 
 ling associations of rough Highlanders with the most 
 recherche fashionables. Some elegant slave of passion 
 longs to fly with her Henry to the desert — " a beautiful 
 place, full of roses and myrtles, and smooth, green turf, 
 and murmuring rivulets, and, though very retired, not 
 absolutely out of the world ; where one could occasion- 
 ally see one's friends, and give dejeunes et fetes cham- 
 petres,^ Scotch mists and mountain blasts dispel the 
 fancy picture and, after a brief period of acute 
 wretchedness, the really heartless victim of a so-called 
 love-match becomes the zealous promoter of mercenary 
 connections. 
 
 In the next generation this process is reversed and, 
 indeed, as Lady Emily remarks, " Love is a passion 
 that has been much talked of, often described, and little 
 understood. Cupid has many counterfeits going about 
 the world, who pass very well with those whose minds 
 are capable of passion, but not of love. These Birming- 
 ham Cupids have many votaries amongst boarding-school 
 misses, militia officers, and milliners' apprentices, who 
 marry upon the mutual faith of blue eyes and scarlet 
 coats ; have dirty houses and squalling children, and 
 hate each other most delectably. Then there is another 
 species for more refined souls, which owes its birth to 
 the works of Rousseau, Goethe, Cottin, &c. Its suc- 
 cess depends very much upon rocks, woods, and 
 waterfalls ; and it generally ends in daggers, pistols, 
 poison, or Doctors' Commons." 
 
 This is not, however, the experience of the heroine 
 proper, who is "religious — what mind of any excel- 
 lence is not ? but hers is the religion of poetry, of 
 but taste, of feeling, of impulse, of any and everything 
 Christianity. He" [that is, the priggish heroj "saw 
 much of fine natural feeling, but in vain sought for any 
 guiding principle of duty. Her mind seemed as a
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XVll 
 
 lovely, flowery, pathless waste, whose sweets exhaled in 
 vain ; all was graceful luxuriance, but all was transient 
 and perishable in its loveliness. No plant of immortal 
 growth grew there, no * flowers worthy of Paradise.' '* 
 
 This ill-regulated and romantic young lady naturally 
 falls in love with the handsome villain, — " There 
 might, perhaps, be something of hauteur in his lofty 
 bearing ; but it was so qualified by the sportive gaiety 
 of his manners, that it seemed nothing more than 
 that elegant and graceful sense of his own superiority, 
 to which, even without arrogance, he could not be in- 
 sensible." 
 
 Clearly this Adonis must be unmasked before she 
 can recognise the solid worth of the hero ; but it is 
 gratifying to observe that the eligible partis the heir 
 for whom she is designed by her friends, had no chance 
 with her from the beginning. 
 
 Miss Ferrier makes use of these common-place types 
 in all her books, and a somewhat common-place melo- 
 drama controls their fate. The story of The Inherit- 
 ance depends for its denouement upon the impossible 
 Yankee Lewiston, a school-girl's brigand ; and the 
 central moment of Destiny is a morbid scene in which 
 "the young man, supposed to have been lost at sea, 
 revisits, after a lapse of time, the precincts of his own 
 home, watching, unseen, in the twilight the occupations 
 and bearings of the different members of the family, 
 and resolving, under the influence of a most generous 
 feeling, to keep the secret of his preservation." "^^ 
 
 However, as Christopher North truly says in the 
 Nodes : — 
 
 "These novels have one feature of true and melancholy 
 interest quite peculiar to themselves. It is in them alone that 
 the ultimate breaking-down and debasement of the Highland 
 
 * This description is quoted from the Nodes, where, it is only 
 fair to add, the passage is called " beautiful " and " pathetic." 
 
 I. d
 
 • 4* 
 
 XVin SUSAN FERRTER. 
 
 character has been depicted. Sir Walter Scott had fixed the 
 enamel of genius over the last fitful flames of their half-savage 
 chivalry, but a humbler and sadder scene — the age of lucre- 
 banished clans — of chieftains dwindled into imitation squires, 
 and of chiefs content to barter the recollections of a thousand 
 years for a few gaudy seasons of Almacks and Crockfords, the 
 euthanasia of kilted aldermen and steam-boat pibrochs was 
 reserved for Miss Ferrier." 
 
 She probably chose these subjects from personal in- 
 clination, but the practice was exactly in accordance 
 with her principles. She writes to Miss Clavering : — 
 " You may laugh at the idea of its being at all neces- 
 sary for the writer of a romance to be versed in the his- 
 tory, natural and political, the modes, manners, customs, 
 &c., of the country where its bold and wanton freaks 
 are to be played ; but I consider it most essentially so, 
 as nothing disgusts even an ordinary reader more than 
 a discovery of the ignorance of the author, who is 
 pretending to instruct and amuse him." 
 
 Even in those their most degenerate days the High- 
 landers were picturesque, and we have it on the au- 
 thority of the Ladies Elizabeth and Juliana that they 
 were " in fashion." * While Miss Ferrier was writing, 
 John Gait (author of The Entail^ The Provost, &c.) 
 published a number of clever novels, containing most 
 carefully-drawn miniatures of Scotch life, from which 
 she may have borrowed various incidents and charac- 
 ters ; and we learn from " The Memoir " that she has 
 taken ojfF several of her own acquaintances. Lady 
 Maclaughlan's dress, it seems, was first worn by Mrs 
 Damur, the lady sculptor, and her manners were those 
 of Lady Frederick Campbell, widow of Earl Ferrers. 
 Some old family friends, the Misses Edmonstone, sat 
 for the aunts in Marriage ; Mrs Mac Shake was a Mrs 
 Davidson, sister to Lord Braxfield ; and Mrs Fox was 
 
 * As they are still, apparently, since " Society " on the stage 
 will condescend even now to don the kilt.
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XIX 
 
 Mary, Ladv Clerk, a well-known Edinburgh character. 
 Uncle Adam was drawn to a great extent from her 
 own father, who was sometimes alluded to by that 
 name. 
 
 She always refused to disclose the original of Miss 
 Pratt, though admitting that such an one existed, and 
 she was sometimes afraid of being discovered. " I 
 am boiling to hear from you," she writes to Miss 
 Clavering ; " but I've taken a sudden remorse about 
 Lady Maclaughlan and her friends ; if I was ever to be 
 detected, or even suspected, I would have nothing for it 
 but to drown myself. . . . As to the misses, if ever it 
 was to be published, they must be altered, or I must fly 
 our native land." The following letter to Mrs Connell 
 shows that some of her friends were rather in haste to 
 recognise themselves : — 
 
 " I am very glad you all liked The Inheritance so much, it 
 seems to have been wonderfully successful ; but both Sir 
 Walter and Mr Mackenzie took it by the hand at the very 
 first, w^hich of course gave it a lift, nevertheless the author 
 will not confess nor allow any of her friends to do it for her. 
 Everybody knows who the characters are, but no two people 
 can agree about them. I have heard of five or six Lord Ross- 
 viUes, and as many Miss Pratts, and Lady John Campbell signs 
 herself Mrs Major Waddell, on account of her care of her hus- 
 band, which she says is her to the very life. In short, whenever 
 characters are at all natural they are immediately set down as 
 being personal, which is a grievance.^'' 
 
 Miss Ferrier puts on her local colour effectively, 
 for her descriptive powers are lively, and she has a dry 
 caustic kind of wit. She says somewhere that " per- 
 haps, after all, the only uncloying pleasure in life is that 
 of fault-finding," and she was seldom inclined to deny 
 herself this gratification. Her satire is at times heavy 
 or even coarse : — 
 
 " Here Miss M'Dow was disencumbered of her pelisse and 
 bonnet, and exhibited a coarse, blubber-lipped, sun-burnt visage,
 
 XX SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 with staring sea-green eyes, a quantity of rough sandy hair, 
 and mulatto neck, with merely a rim of white round the 
 
 shoulders The gloves were then taken off, and a pair 
 
 of thick mulberry paws set at liberty." 
 
 In this instance, indeed, it is positively repulsive. 
 
 Miss Ferrier's observation was shrewd and keen 
 so far as it went but, except perhaps in the creation 
 of that good soul Molly Macaulay, it was not sympa- 
 thetic, and seldom pierced below the surface. Like 
 Fanny Burney's, her genius delighted in the exhibition 
 of humours, and her claim to notice rests chiefly on her 
 "gallery of originals, her museum of abnormalities." 
 
 Probably the best known of all Miss Ferrier's oddi- 
 ties are the three Scotch aunts (Jacky, Grizzy, and 
 Nicky) in Marriage, and they are by no means un- 
 worthy of the distinction. As exemplars of the dis- 
 agreeable virtues and the petty conventions they stand 
 alone, and their epistles to Mary Douglas are master- 
 pieces of inconsequent garrulity. As a rule it is im- 
 possible to think of them apart, but the sapient Grizzy 
 becomes finally differentiated from her sisters when she 
 follows the rest of the company to Bath. 
 
 The aunts are great theorists on the education of 
 the young and other matters of domestic economy, 
 but their opinions have all been learned from one 
 oracle, the redoubtable Lady Maclaughlan, who has 
 a genius for incivility worthy of Lady Catherine in 
 Pride and Prejudice, and expects to be thought in- 
 fallible by all those in whom she condescends to 
 take an interest. 
 
 The English aristocracy, on the other hand, is most 
 favourably represented by Lady Emily, who has the 
 charming naughtiness, the kittenlike vivacity of Lady 
 G. in Sir Charles Grandison, and, like her, combines a 
 pretty unsteadiness of principle with a loyal and loving 
 heart. She is an excellent tonic to Mary, the demure,
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XXI 
 
 and introduces her to some notable acquaintance in the 
 ** house of mourning.'' 
 
 The most important " character " in The Inheritance 
 whom we venture to notice before the Earl of Rossville, 
 has a certain resemblance to one of Miss Austen's 
 creations. The inimitable Miss Pratt talks as in- 
 cessantly as Miss Bates ; she is obtuse, inconsequent, 
 and full of gossip. Her Anthony Whyte is as im- 
 maculate and as clever as the other's Jane Fairfax. 
 But she is not entirely an imitation, for whereas Miss 
 Bates is the soul of good nature, Miss Pratt is caustic 
 as vinegar, and delights in nothing so much as in making 
 mischief. She achieves one temporary conquest, by 
 her knowledge of " stocks," over uncle Adam, a man 
 whose character is the very antipodes of hers. He is 
 the typical cross old gentleman of fiction, who never 
 opens his lips if he can help it, and hates to have any- 
 one about him. His heart, however, is of course in 
 the right place, and he finally becomes softened and 
 humanised by the herione's resemblance to his first and 
 only love. In externals, as we have seen, he was copied 
 from Miss Ferrier's father, and the type reappears as 
 Inch-Orran in Destiny. His secret and shamefaced 
 delight in Guy Mannering is cleverly described, and 
 conveys a graceful compliment to the author's friend 
 and compatriot. 
 
 The pet aversion of uncle Adam is Bell Black, the 
 pretty fool on whom Miss Ferrier expends the whole 
 force of her cynical artillery. She is for ever prattling 
 of " her situation," a.%Jiancee of a wealthy nabob, Major 
 Waddell, and fondly imagines that no one else can be 
 an object of attention in her presence. The senti- 
 mental Lilly Black, though quite a minor character, 
 belongs to much the same type, but has an individuality 
 of her own. 
 
 A characteristic of The Inheritance is the delicate
 
 XXll SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 gradation of beaux which might almost have been con- 
 ceived by the authoress of Evelina. The elegant Sir 
 Reginald is not in reality so refined as Lyndsay, for his 
 hauteur is too overbearing ; and Major Waddell de- 
 spises the graces of Mr Augustus Larkins and the two 
 Blacks. The former, indeed, by his intimacy with the 
 town lions and vulgar knowingness, reminds one forcibly 
 of Mr Smith in Evelina, though in person the eighteenth 
 century gallant must have been more attractive. Mr 
 Smith's eyes were probably dark, and his bearing melan- 
 choly, whereas Mr Larkins has " regular features, very 
 pink eyes, very black eyebrows, and what was in- 
 tended for a very smart expression." Bob and Davy 
 Black, again, are 
 
 "dressed in all the extremes of the reigning fashions— small 
 waists, brush-heads, stiff" collars, iron heels, and switches. 
 Like many other youths they were distinctly of opinion that 
 'dress makes the man.' . . . Perhaps, after all, that is a 
 species of humility rather to be admired in those who, feel- 
 ing themselves destitute of mental qualifications, trust to the 
 abilities of their tailor and hairdresser for gaining them the 
 goodwill of the world." 
 
 An interesting treatise on manners might be com- 
 posed from Miss Ferrier's novels, for she shows con- 
 siderable ingenuity in the differentiation of the fine 
 shades. The nonchalance of Lord Lindore forms a 
 marked contrast to the brilliance of Sir Reginald, 
 though both are perfectly well-bred ; and Mrs St Clair 
 
 "was considerably annoyed by the manners of Lady Charles, 
 which made her feel her own as something unwieldy and over- 
 grown ; like a long train, they were both out of the way ant/, 
 in the way, and she did not know very well how to dispose of 
 them. Indeed, few things can be more irritating than for 
 those who have hitherto piqued themselves upon the abund- 
 ance of their manner, to find all at once that they have a great 
 deal too much ; that no one is inclined to take it off" their 
 hands, and that, in short, it is dead stock."
 
 SUSAN FERRIER. XXIU 
 
 Mr Saintsbury conjectures that Miss Ferrier had In 
 fact rather a penchant for the aristocracy, and she cer- 
 tainly draws her ladies and gentlemen of title from 
 the life. Her heroines, though fully recognising " the 
 vanity of rank and fishion," are wont to betray a par- 
 tiality for elegant manners and refined conversation. 
 
 In Destiny the main story is more carefully worked 
 out and the minor characters are, to some extent, kept in 
 their place. It must be admitted that, in consequence, 
 the book is the least interesting of the three. It contains, 
 however, one full-length portrait, ably drawn, — that 
 of the minister, Mr M'Dow. He is a coarser creature 
 than Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice.^ but he has the 
 same tenacity in the pursuit of personal aggrandisement, 
 and the same invulnerable obtuseness with regard to all 
 other concerns. Himself the prophet of himself, he 
 pesters the whole world with his opinions, and is guilty 
 of what he is pleased to call a joke on every possible 
 occasion. To confess the truth, the merciless realism 
 with which his vulgarity is described becomes tiresome 
 at length, and his case may be quoted, in contradistinc- 
 tion to that of Miss Pratt, as an argument for the con- 
 tention that a bore in real life is very apt to be a bore 
 in fiction. His "pawtron," Glenroy, who was too 
 great in himself to make a great marriage, is another 
 excellent character, and the Chief's mourning for his 
 dead son is, in our opinion, the only scene of pathos 
 which Miss Ferrier has managed with any success. 
 
 There is another indication, however, in Destiny that 
 she might have done good serious work. The char- 
 acter of Mrs Macaulay, as we have hinted already, is 
 sympathetically conceived, and is not altogether with- 
 out subtlety. She is in many ways little better than a 
 fool, but she proves herself under every circumstance to 
 be a real " lady." 
 
 In conclusion, it will be obvious that we cannot turn
 
 XXIV SUSAN FERRIER. 
 
 to Miss Ferrier for a transcript of actual life, a careful 
 picture, like one of Miss Austen's, of scenes which 
 seem almost to have occurred in our own experience. 
 She loved rather to dwell upon, and with a pardonable 
 sense of enjoyment to exaggerate, the freaks of nature, 
 the eccentricities to which humanity is subject. Her 
 methods are practically the same in Marriage, in The 
 Inheritance, and in Destiny. The stories in themselves 
 are in no way impressive, and can with difficulty be 
 retained in the memory ; but the minor characters 
 stand out clear and well-defined, they "are persons 
 with whom we are delighted to meet, sorry to part, and 
 certain to meet again." In a word, " they are excellent 
 company." 
 
 R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON.
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 AS Miss Ferrier seldom dated her letters, it is 
 impossible to arrange them exactly in chrono- 
 logical order. 
 
 To Miss Claver'ing, 
 
 I. 
 
 TwAS when the seas were roaring 
 
 With hollow blasts of wind, 
 A damsel sat by the fireside poring 
 
 Till she was almost blind. 
 
 Such is the situation poetical, geographical, atmo- 
 spherical, intellectual, and optical of the Damsel who 
 now addresses you, and these lines descriptive of her 
 unhappy circumstances may prove no less instructive to 
 posterity than they are interesting to present times. As 
 I find my correspondence is carefully preserved by you, 
 I flatter myself it is with the view of being one day 
 presented to the public in twelve handsome octavo 
 volumes, embellished with a portrait of the Authoress, 
 and enriched with a facsimile of her handwriting. 
 Having this hope before my eyes, I carefully abstain 
 from the vulgar practice of dating my letter, aware how 
 greatly uncertainty adds to interest. 
 
 With regard to this letter, my future Biographer will 
 say (for my Life must go along with my head and hand) 
 
 XXV
 
 XXVI LETTERS. 
 
 it has been found impossible to fix any precise date ; all we 
 can ascertain is that it must have been written somewhere 
 in the vicinity of the sea during very tempestuous weather, 
 and we also learn that the Author was much addicted 
 to reading by the fireside (probably with her toes on 
 the fender) and that her sight was materially affected 
 by this unremitting attention to her studies. Of the nature 
 of these studies it would be presumptuous to hazard a 
 guess. We certainly cannot deny what has been alleged 
 that Jack the Giant Killer at this time formed a part of 
 her course of reading, but it is not probable a mind such 
 as our Author's could take much delight in such scenes 
 of rapine and bloodshed. — O me, how wearied 1 am of 
 walking upon stilts, and how glad I am to get down to 
 my very stocking soles. I only mounted to try and 
 please you, as you are not satisfied with me it seems 
 in my ordinary dimensions. Forgetting how much Time 
 has bent me with his iron hand, you want me to be as 
 tall and as straight as in the days of my prime ; alas, 
 my dear Chatty, my mind as well as my body has long 
 been past playing antics, so don't quarrel with me be- 
 cause " sprightly folly no longer wantons in my lines, 
 and dull serenity becalms my page." Nobody ever 
 had less to make them gay that had nothing to make 
 them wretched than I have ; if I was thoroughly good 
 I suppose I ought to be excessively happy, but as 
 Waverley says of your country — 
 
 "There's nought in the Highlands but sibyls and leeks, 
 And lang-legged Gallants wanting the breeks," &c. 
 
 " There's nought to be seen here but mountains and heath, 
 And lang-backed Lassies wanting the teeth," &c. 
 
 N.B. — This is quite matter of fact, except that there 
 is no heath in sight, and the girls have got bran new 
 buck teeth which they are always showing like me, and 
 as I hate to be imitated, I'm going to have all mine
 
 LETTERS. XXVll 
 
 pulled out and a handsome transparency of Mount Vesu- 
 vius put in their place. I'm infinitely obliged by your 
 invitation ; this place is quite handy for a trip to 
 Greenock, as there are vessels sailing eveiy day for 
 Liverpool, and from thence I could be at no loss to 
 get myself a berth — but as I have just half-a-crown in 
 the World, I suppose I would have to work my passage 
 — seriously, I can only say I would rather be with you 
 than anywhere I know at present. You may well say 
 we have no comfort in each other in Town, but from 
 the nature of things it cannot be otherwise, as you have 
 your ways and I have mine, but in the Country we 
 could hlend our beings together and go on vastly well. 
 As to the Chiefs of Glenfern I shall say nothing till 
 you have read it, and then I shall expect a candid 
 opinion from you. I cannot offer to send it to you as 
 I have no copy for myself, but I hope you will contrive 
 to satisfy your curiosity some way or other. I was 
 delighted with your account of Lord John (Campbell). 
 I had had a bad dream about him which made me very 
 apprehensive. I wish he would go and winter in Italy, 
 however, and take you with him to nurse him. If 
 Lady Charlotte comes how enchanting that will be, 
 but I fear nothing but an Earthquake will roll her 
 hitherward. I stood the Quaker very well ; what did 
 you do ? Some Ladies I saw in the Papers were paper- 
 ing their hair at the time. I rather think my curls 
 must have been compleated, but I never could say 
 positively whether I must have been tying my night-cap 
 or buttoning the collar of my night-gown. My brother 
 Walter is away to Holland ; I'm afraid he'll never . 
 come back. When we who dwell on Mountain tops 
 can hardly keep our heads above water, what must it be 
 in such Puttock Land ? Not but what I would go to 
 the Antipodes to shift the scene a little and see some- 
 thing strange and new, for truly this side of the world
 
 XXVlll LETTERS. 
 
 is become prodigiously ^<2/, and I'm very weary, Miss 
 Clavering, and do nothing but send forth Clandestine 
 groans. I'm reading heaps of Books, but they tell 
 nothing but the truth, and I know it already ; but if 
 you could send me a batch of lies I should take it very 
 well of you and they would do me a deal of good. 
 They would be like Foxglove to the Dropsy and 
 Arsenic to the Ague. I would try my hand myself, 
 but that I know you are very incredulous and wouldn't 
 believe me though I were to swear that my Father wore 
 a pink silk coat and bagwig, and that I rouged and 
 danced waltzes with my Brother-in-law's black servant. 
 Ah prop oh ! \^sic'] did you ever receive my communi- 
 cations on that subject — i.e., waltzing, and was it not as 
 plain as print where they came from ? I desire you will 
 write instantly and tell me how you like the latitude 
 and longitude of my lucubrations. I mean to cover 
 this page down to the very ground that you may have 
 no white paper to cast in my teeth. I don't know 
 what to put upon it, but as I began in poetry I scorn 
 to end in prose, so I bid you Adieu as I am going to 
 blow my nose. 
 
 II. 
 
 I relent, here is a letter for you, so dry your eyes, 
 wipe your nose, and promise to be a good child, and I 
 shall forgive you for this time. I'm sure you must be 
 very sorry for having displeased me, for I know my 
 friendship is the only thing in the World you care about; 
 everything else compared to it is as cold porridge to 
 Turtle soup. Tell me how you have sped in the long 
 night of my silence. Did not the sun appear to you 
 like an old Coal Basket, and the heavens as a wet 
 blanket ? was not the moon invisible to your weeping 
 eyes? were not the fields to your distempered fancy
 
 LETTERS. XXIX 
 
 without verdure, and the boughs without blossoms ? and 
 did not the birds refuse to sing, and the lambs to dance ? 
 did not the wind sometimes seem to sigh and the dogs 
 to howl ? All these and a thousand such prodigies I 
 know have appeared to you in the long interval of my 
 silence, but now the spell is broken, and all these fearful 
 visions will vanish ; you will see the sun break out as 
 yellow as your hair and the moon shine as white as your 
 hand ; the fields will grow as green as grass in Decem- 
 ber, and the Birds will dance Waltzes all the way before 
 you from the Post Office ; you will taste of five more 
 dishes at dinner to testify your joy, and you will toss ofl 
 an additional glass of Ale in honour of every sentence I 
 shall indite. You would hear how Lady Charlotte * 
 had tarried in this place f ten days, but I got very little 
 good of her. She was so cherche and recherche. She 
 dined with me one day, however, and had John Wilson 
 to show off with, and there arose a question whether a 
 Woman of a right way of thinking would not rather be 
 stabbed as kicked by her husband (observe this burnt 
 hole. Miss, it is a sure sign that either you or I are going 
 to be married, but keep that to yourself, and excuse this 
 Parenthesis, which, indeed, is rather too long, but I hope 
 you have not such an Antipathy to them as Dean Swift 
 had ; he, honest man ! could not abide the sight of them, 
 which was certainly a prejudice on his part : for mine, 
 I think there are worse things in the World than Paren- 
 theses) ; but to return to where I was (which, indeed, 
 is not such an easy matter, as I must turn the page to see 
 where I left off: it was at the burnt hole, and here I 
 am just coming upon another which looks as if we were ' 
 both going to be wed. I wonder who it will be to ! ) 
 I am for a stabber, but I daresay you will be for putting 
 up with a kicker. It was talking of Lord Byron 
 
 * Lady Charlotte Campbell. f Edinburgh.
 
 XXX LETTERS. 
 
 brought on the question. I maintain there is but one 
 crime a woman could never forgive in her husband, and 
 that is a kicking. Did you ever read anything so exquisite 
 as the new Canto of Childe Harold ? It is enough to 
 make a woman fly into the Arms of a Tiger ; nothing 
 but a kick could ever have hardened her heart against 
 such genius. . . . 
 
 III. 
 
 Wednesday Evening. 
 
 I am at the greatest possible pains to furnish you 
 with an abridgement of my brain in order to save you 
 double postage when, just as I had finished my letter, 
 my Brother sent me a frank big enough to carry a folio. 
 "Tis well for you that I did not know of it sooner for, 
 as I'm in a scribbling mood there's no saying where I 
 might have stopped had not the form of sevenpence 
 held my hand. However, I am overflowing with spite, 
 and you need not wonder should my gall shew itself 
 soon on a new sheet of paper. Meantime I charge you 
 on your allegiance herewith to assume the form of a 
 letter and transport yourself into my presence. 'Tis 
 very hard, methinks, that serpents and skeletons should 
 have more of your company than what I have, but I 
 suppose were I a snake or a spectre I'd be prettily 
 courted, — but let me tell you flesh and blood won't bear 
 this as I'm cast off by Lady Charlotte, abandoned by 
 Mamselle La Chaux "^ and treated with contumely by 
 Miss Clavering, but I'll be revenged of you. — I shall 
 write a Book to which yours shall bear the same pro- 
 portion as Joe Millar to Mrs Radcliffe. Tou have but 
 one serpent, / shall have nine. Tours can only speak 
 (which they could do in the days of Adam). Mine 
 shall sing and play on the Harp, and Waltz ; you measure 
 
 * Governess in the family of Lady Charlotte Campbell.
 
 f LETTERS. XXXI 
 
 out blood (like Laudanum) in drops, but I shall dis- 
 pense it like the shower bath ! I — but I shall say no 
 more lest you burst with envy at my superior Genius 
 and thereby deprive me of the satisfaction of seeing you 
 pine a slow death at my unrivalled success. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sunday Evening, 2oCh. 
 
 Did I not promise you a literary letter ? Alas ! 
 my hand turns pale and my pen is ready to swoon at 
 the bare mention of such an undertaking ! How shall 
 these inexperienced innocents who have never strayed 
 beyond the precincts of Folly, save to peep into the 
 flowery field of Fiction — how shall they ever find their 
 way through the mazes of Literature and Criticism ? 
 Will they not be plunged into the bogs of Ignorance, 
 driven against the rocks of Pedantry, or bewildered in 
 the mazes of Error ? Will they not have to combat 
 Prejudice, to conquer Partiality, to beware Presumption ? 
 Too surely all those dangers beset those Monsters that 
 besiege the paths of science, and unless vanquished at 
 the very entrance seldom fail to make the unwary 
 passenger their prey ! Unlike the fabled Dragons of 
 old we cannot bribe them to let us pass unmolested, but 
 rather like the fascinating syrens they charm us to 
 our ruin ! ! ! — There's an exordium for you, that even 
 out-Montagues Montague ! The cause of this extra- 
 ordinary burst of eloquent moralising proceeds solely 
 from that source of the true sublime in letter-writing. 
 I chanced to take up a volume of hers to keep me ' 
 awake after dinner, and the fancy took me to try 
 whether, without a grain of her talent, I could not 
 write something about nothing as flowery and pedanitc 
 as she has done. I admired her letters at first reading, 
 and still think some of them the wittiest that ever were
 
 XXXn LETTERS. 
 
 written — but that everlasting eternal preaching and 
 prosing is execrable in every day letters, don't you 
 think so ? . . . I've a mind to enclose you a wee 
 morsel of Lady M'Laughlan, though I think the 
 dinner-scene is carried too far, but I write down every- 
 thing that Folly suggests at first, and leave it to reason 
 to abridge it afterwards. . , . Your love speech is 
 quite beautiful and eloquent, and must have come from 
 the heart — the head never could produce anything so 
 warm and tender, and I love you all the better for it. My 
 only fault to you is that you've never been in love, but 
 I trust your time is coming, and that you'll live to swell 
 the streams with your tears and shake the trees with 
 your sighs ! How I should doat on you as a love-sick 
 maid ! I long to see the beauteous Rawdon ; * it 
 seems but as yesterday since these aged arms used to 
 hold the crowing babe! Give my Motherly love to 
 him. I suppose he's too big to be kissed now ? When 
 do you go to Inveraray ? When does the Duke come 
 to it ? Who's to be there ? How long are you to 
 stay ? Is it to be very gay ? Have you got in your 
 Hay ? Answer me quickly by Yea or by Nay ? And 
 don't let it be in the old Way — for I declare I never 
 grudge to Pay. No more will I say, for this is Sunday. 
 
 V. 
 
 Conheath, July 26th, 1809. 
 
 I came to this naughty place a few days ago 
 and am leading the life of an absolute beast, for I do 
 naught but wander about the fields and eat of the fruits 
 of the earth and drink buttermilk, till I'm become so 
 fat I'm the admiration of all the Cowfeeders in the 
 Parish ; by the bye, I expect to rival fat Lambert of 
 
 * Rawdon Clavering, her brother. He married Miss Dunbar 
 of Northfield, and was father of Sir Henry Clavering, Bart.
 
 LETTERS. XXXlll 
 
 famous memory, or rather to fill his place in the world, 
 and to be wheeled about the country in my caravan 
 with my Trumpeters and Beef-eaters ; but even should 
 I arrive at that Celebrity, I promise you I shall always 
 make it a point to pay you a visit gratis. I'm glad you 
 like Coelebs — the Book I mean, for the man is insup- 
 portable ; he's a good well-meaning creature, to be 
 sure, and is of great use in making a pertinent remark 
 or hitching in a hacknied observation whenever the con- 
 versation begins to flag, but farther his merits I could 
 not descry. There is a deal of good sense and truth 
 throughout the whole book, and the Stanley family are 
 delightful upon paper! Have you read Edgworth's 
 Fashionable Tales ? I like the two first, but none of 
 the others ; it is high time all good Ladles and grateful 
 little girls should be returned to their gilt boards, and 
 as for sentimental weavers and moralising glovers I 
 recommend them as Penny ware for the Pedlar. I 
 lent Coelebs to Lord John, who has promised me some 
 marginal notes upon it, which I think will prove a great 
 addition to the next Edition. I can't tell you what 
 the World's about, for I'm quite out of it at present, 
 and see nobody but innocent natives and hear nothing 
 but Parish News. For myself, I'm just such another 
 harmless innocent as Mrs Commissary's Monkey, for 
 ** I joist play mysel' wi' a windle strae." I hope your 
 sea Foivels have taken flight ; it must have been a 
 tender squeeze from some of their amphibious fangs 
 that broke my Ring — deny it if you dare. I'm going 
 to commit this to the care of your most Puissant Uncle 
 — it is such another desperate expedient as putting a 
 letter into a Bottle and committing it to the mercy of 
 the waves. I write at the risk of my life, for I'm 
 dying of heat, but the only thing that will revive me 
 will be to hear from you, and that you are well and 
 happy, not ^^ sick and melancholy,'^ 
 
 I. c
 
 XXXiv LETTERS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Feb. 1810. 
 
 What a glorious vision burst upon my sight ! As I 
 behold our Heroine, even the Beauteous Herminsilde, 
 sailing over the salt seas in an old Beer Barrel) ! ! ! My 
 dearest of dear Creatures, you must excuse me for 
 having skipped over all the dry land and plumped 
 in, heels over head, into the Water, since really the 
 Barrel is as buoyant in my imagination as erst it was 
 in the Archipelago. Methinks I behold the Count 
 and the Squire ramming her in like so much raw 
 sugar, and treading her down as the Negroes do the 
 Figs, to make them pack close ! 'Tis no wonder you 
 pride yourself upon your Invention ; that is truly an in- 
 cident for which you'll find no parallel in the Annals of 
 Novel Writing ! A mere matter-of-fact Writer now, 
 had they really wanted to drown a body, would most 
 likely have tied a good thumping stone about its neck 
 and there would have been an end of it ; but your 
 Count knows a trick worth two of that — he either goes 
 to a Cooper and bespeaks a good, stout, water-tight 
 cask (tho% he seems such a scurvy old Knave, I doubt 
 if he'd have been at the expense), or he picks up an 
 old rum puncheon belonging to the ship's crew, into 
 which he crams his victim, and then (tho' by what 
 means the story does not inform) this said enormous 
 Pipe or Puncheon is in a trice whisked out of a little 
 Cabin window ! ! ! Now if this is not something new 
 I should be very glad to know what is ? Solomon, to 
 be sure, some time ago gave it as his firm opinion that 
 there was nothing new under the sun ; but I should like 
 to know what he would have said to this ! And here 
 I must observe what a cruel thing it was of that wise 
 Monarch to lay down the law so positively in that par- 
 ticular. How many a bright genius has been stifled by
 
 LETTERS. XXXV 
 
 this smoky saying ! For my part Pm discouraged from 
 all attempts at Novelty when I think if there was nothing 
 new in those days, what must it be now when every 
 bit of ground from Parnassus Top to the Mummy Pits 
 of Egypt has been so poached ! However, I rejoice 
 to see your spirit soars superior to the shackles King 
 Solomon thought to impose ; and while I lament that 
 my grovelling Nature cannot accompany you in your 
 aerial flights I shall yet do my best to speed your suc- 
 cess in this nether sphere. You say there are just two 
 styles for which you have any taste, viz., the horrible 
 and the astonishing ! Now, Pll groan for you till the 
 very blood shall curdle in my veins, or Fll shriek and 
 stare till my own eyes start out of their sockets with 
 
 surprise — but as to writing with you . In truth it 
 
 would be as easy to compound a new element out of 
 fire and water, as that we two should jointly write a 
 Book ! . . . I've said nothing of my own obstacles, 
 because I consider those on your side as sufficiently 
 powerful ; but I assure you I could no more accomplish 
 such a letter as you propose every week than a poor 
 wretch could promise to be witty and agreeable when 
 writhing in the cholic. In the first place, I really have 
 not much time I can absolutely command, for in a 
 Town, however privately or retired one may live, 
 they're still liable to a thousand intermptions ; in the 
 next place, I have enough to do with my time in writ- 
 ing to my sisters three, sewing my seam, improving my 
 mind, making tea, playing whist, with numberless other 
 duties, too tedious to mention ; and, in the third and 
 last place, there's sometimes for a week together that I 
 can't bear the sight of a pen and could no more invent 
 a letter than I could have discovered the longitude. 
 So for the present let us put our Child to sleep and 
 hope for better times to wake him. Only, once for all, 
 let me promise to you that I will not enter into any of
 
 XXXVl LETTERS. 
 
 your Raw head and bloody bone schemes — I would not 
 even read a Book that had a spectre in it, and as for 
 committing a Mysterious and most foul murder, I de- 
 clare I'd rather take a dose of assafoetida ; so don't 
 flatter yourself with the hope of associating me in your 
 crimes and iniquities, for I'll be partner in none of your 
 bloody purposes, Miss. . . . 
 
 Vll. 
 
 Edinburgh, 26th May 1810. 
 
 I hope you won't set me down as stark staring 
 mad, for I assure you, in spite of appearances, I'm only 
 a ivee daft and just wanted to divert myself, and I 
 know I'd be safe with you, for you're a good dear and 
 won't make a Fool of me — for a good reason, you'll 
 say, because it's done to your hand. But seriously and 
 truly I think you have just as much malice in you as 
 would make you think it fine fun to shew what an old 
 goose cap I am ; but I give you warning, if ever you 
 shew a single line of mine to any Man, Woman, or 
 Child, I'm done with you for Ever and Ever ; so if you 
 want to get rid of me, there's a genteel opening for you. 
 I've been languishing to write to you this age, but I've 
 had such a fulness of blood about my head and chest, 
 that I thought I was going to break a blood vessel, and 
 so dared not put pen to paper — and that's the true cause 
 of this long cessation. . . . 
 
 VIII. 
 
 . . . And now I must congratulate you upon your 
 return to this favoured land, where I pray you may long 
 flourish, and put forth branches and green leaves like a 
 goodly tree. I was beginning to fear you were going to 
 engraft your Noble stock upon some of the little scions
 
 LETTERS. XXXVll 
 
 you wrote me about, particularly as I heard one of them 
 was languishing for your love. Apropos of that passion 
 so miscalled, did you hear that wee Wynne is going to 
 clothe herself with a husband, and such a one ! Apollo 
 is truly a God compared to him. Were there ever such 
 a pair of little infatuated follys ? I hope they're mad, 
 poor things, as their best and only excuse. Your cousin 
 Anne * is my authority, so I refer you to her for the 
 melancholy particulars. She is, I think, grown quite 
 handsome, and is vastly sensible and agreeable. As for 
 your base attempts to depreciate the charms of my 
 present mode of living, I can only ascribe them to the 
 blackest envy and grossest ignorance, else how can you 
 compare the savage enjoyments to be found amongst 
 your misty mountains to the elegant seclusion and re- 
 fined pleasures to be met with in this queen of cities ? 
 There you behold nothing but decaying Nature, such as 
 dropping leaves, fading flowers, drooping trees, here 
 I contemplate the progress of the Arts in streets building, 
 houses repairing, shops painting. There no sound salutes 
 your ear save the monotonous din of some tinkling rill 
 or tumbling cascade. Here I am regaled from morning 
 till night with an enchanting variety from the majestic 
 rumble of Hackney Coach to the elegant trot of a post 
 chay. While ever and anon intervenes the liquid notes 
 of some sea nymph warbling " Caller herring." As to 
 the Olfactory delights, I need not expatiate upon them, 
 'tis well known what a boundless store this Town 
 affords, rich and inexhaustible as Nature herself! As 
 to my associating with Cats, if I do, let me tell you 
 they are of a very different description from your wild 
 Highland mousers, who would make no ceremony of 
 tearing one's Eyes out, while my tame domesticated 
 creatures are quite content if you throw them some 
 
 * Hon. Anne Napier, married, 1816, Sir P. Gibson Car- 
 michael, Bart.
 
 XXXVIU LETTERS. 
 
 little bit of a tattered reputation to play with. Mine, 
 thank my stars ! is of a texture to defy both tooth and 
 claw ! . . . 
 
 IX. 
 
 Sep. 26th. 
 
 ... I daresay all the old Tabbies in Town are sitting 
 on their sophas with " 'white sashes " on, ready to faint 
 away at the sight of a Man ! By the bye, she must have 
 been an old-fashioned toad to have a handkerchief and 
 a sash upon her person, and there's the mischief of wear- 
 ing Clothes ; had she been clad al fresco (as every 
 modest woman ought) the deed could not have been 
 done for want of those necessary implements of war ; 
 but to be sure, if people will furnish arms against them- 
 selves they must stand the consequences ! And, to 
 set you an example, I am going to tell you that I'm 
 deeply and desperately in love ! And what makes my 
 case particularly deplorable is that there's not the least 
 prospect of the dear Man lending so much as a little 
 finger to pull me out of the mire into which he has 
 plunged me ! Were I possessed of the same mean spirit 
 of bartering as you I'd have you to guess his degree ; 
 but you'd as [soon] bethink you of the great Cham of 
 Tartary as the Right Honourable John Philpot Curran, 
 Master of the Rolls, Ireland ! ! ! I wish 1 could give 
 you any idea of his charms but, alas ! my pen does not, 
 like Rousseau's, *' brule siir le papier ; " and none but a 
 pen of fire could trace his character or record the 
 charms of his conversation. Don't set me down for 
 mad, for I assure you I'm only bewitched, and perhaps 
 time and absence may dissolve the magic spells. He 
 had the cruelty to tell me he liked me, and then he left 
 me. Had my eyes been worth a button they'd soon 
 have settled the matter ; but there's the misery of being 
 sent into the World with such Mussel shells ! ! I (a
 
 LETTERS. XXXIX 
 
 modest maiden) said nothing, and it seems they were 
 silent ; and so we parted, never to meet again ! ! ! But, 
 seriously, I have been very much delighted and gratified 
 by a visit from this most extraordinary being, " whose 
 versatility of genius " (as St John Carr justly observes 
 for once) "is the astonishment and admiration of all 
 who come within its range." I'll certainly live seven 
 yearslonger for having seen him. Lord Frederick"^ 
 dined here with him, and was delighted. By the bye, I 
 wonder how he can be plagued with that little fat capon 
 (Mr Cailly) always trotting at his heels ! . . . 
 
 X. 
 
 Your letter, Ma'am, with joy I read, 
 It seemed like tidings from the dead, 
 So full of fire and Fiddle too 
 Of spectres green and spirits blue. 
 
 Give me credit for my prudence which makes me 
 withhold from your giddy pate the rest of my most 
 adorable rhymes, but you may take my word for it that 
 they are the cleverest, the wittiest, the sensiblest, the 
 elegantest of possible verses, and that nothing the least 
 like them has appeared since the day Eve first sported 
 her green Dickie. As to your Base rhymes, I had 
 seen them before and deemed them far beneath your 
 notice, for who, pray, when they purchase a Fiddle 
 ever thinks of looking to the case ? In my humble 
 opinion you might if you had pleased have played a 
 mighty pretty tune upon this same Fiddle and danced 
 to it also, not a Horn pipe but a good old-fashioned 
 Country dance to the tune of " Money in both pockets," ' 
 which let me tell you. Miss, is something better than 
 
 * Lord Frederick Campbell, brother of John, fifth Duke of 
 Argyll ; he was Lord Registrar of Scotland, and died in London, 
 i3i6.
 
 ad LETTERS. 
 
 your favourite air of " Go to the devil and shake your- 
 self." Then to think of the happy consequences that 
 would result to posterity from this Union ! for as the 
 family of the R.'s are rather remarkable for the saving 
 graces f how completely would that evil propensity be 
 
 counteracted by having a few drops of the A 11 
 
 blood circulating in their veins ! As for Lord John, 
 he need never hope to have rest in his bed if he don't 
 make a marriage of it. The shade of Camilla will 
 certainly haunt him and her perturbed spirit hover over 
 his couch upbraiding him with broken vows if he fails 
 to accomplish this grand desire. Apropos, pray ask 
 him if he has a mind for another Bet upon that subject, 
 as I heard to-day that the Physicians declare she is in 
 no immediate danger. I heard also (what, however, I 
 don't believe) that she says she has no fear of death as 
 she has all her life been kind to animals. A most con- 
 venient creed I must own for some people, and if our 
 rewards hereafter are to be proportioned to our merits 
 in this particular, I know one little sinner who will rank 
 very high amongst the Saints, but woe to me for the 
 vengeance I used to take on the hides of your wretched 
 hounds ! What are your present pursuits and future 
 plans ? and is there any chance of your coming here in 
 the course of the Winter ? 
 
 I am busied in the ^rts and Sciences at present, japanning 
 old boxes, varnishing new ones, daubing velvet, and, in 
 short, as the old wives say, " my hands never out of an ill 
 turn." Then by way of pastime, I play whist every night 
 to the very death with all the fusty Dowagers and musty 
 mousers in the purlieus — and yet I'm alive ! praise be 
 to Oysters and porter. If you wish to be corpulent, eat a 
 score of the one and drink a bottle of the other every 
 day, and you'll soon be unwieldy and, if you persevere, 
 will in time arrive at a Waddle. I send you a precious 
 gift ! a piece of charmed Cake which has undei gone all
 
 LETTERS. 3di 
 
 the customary ceremonies, such as being drawn thirteen 
 times through the marriage ring, &c., &c. It is, alas ! 
 not my own, but I trust that will follow ; it is the daughter 
 of my Love who was this day married to my cousin, 
 which makes a charming opening for me, as my beloved 
 is [nowj left solitary, and solitude is the nurse of love — 
 but methinks eighty requires another sort of nurse, and 
 so I shall insinuate my services. Fail not to relate your 
 dreams unto me, and I will then expound. I hear 
 stocking working is (or was) the rage, powers of grace! 
 that I should live to hear of Lady Charlotte being trans- 
 mogrified into a . Make my obeisance to 
 Lord John, and that no caricature has yet gladdened 
 my sight. A Word to the Wise is enough. Did you 
 ever get my Princesse de Wolfenbuttle ? As you never 
 acknowledged her arrival, pray write to me speedily. 
 
 XL 
 
 toth. 
 
 .... This is in revenge for yom* presumption in 
 daring to talk of Love to a spinster of my years and 
 discretion. Know, Mistress, that I despise Love and 
 have no Love for anything in the World except wooden 
 Men and acting Magistrates. How can you talk to me 
 of balls and dances and drinking-bouts ? I, who lead 
 the life of a saint upon earth, and eschew all such evil 
 and profane pursuits ? But surely the Town, Fm told, 
 is very dull, for it is pretty much the same to me at 
 all seasons. By the bye, was it in joke or earnest that 
 you said you were coming here in January ? I hope it 
 was the latter, as I think you'd be the better of six 
 weeks of Reekie to rub off the rusticity you will doubtless 
 have contracted in the Country. There are plenty of 
 houses to be had, so do pray make up your mind and 
 get your Mamma to pack up. You need not mind the
 
 Xlii LETTERS. 
 
 expense, because we're all to be dead before next 
 summer. We're first to die of famine in the Winter, and 
 Bonaparte's to come and rob and murder us all in the 
 spring. So says the Dss of Gordon, and it must be so 
 because she says everything she has ever predicted has 
 always come to pass 
 
 XII. 
 
 .... I have been reading Emma, which is excel- 
 lent ; there is no story whatever, and the heroine is no 
 better than other people, but the characters are all so true 
 to life and the style so piquant, that it does not require 
 the adventitious aids of mystery and adventure. I have 
 also read M. Simeon's Tour through Britain, a compila- 
 tion of old newspapers, Travellers' Guides, Joe Millar 
 Jests, impertinent gossip and vulgar scurrillity all tacked 
 together in the most grating disjointed style that sets 
 one's teeth on edge, and makes them feel as if they were 
 trotting on the back of a donkey. His account of In- 
 verary is that it contains some very ugly old fashioned 
 Tapestry and coloured prints in the very worst taste, and 
 that the trees are Pyramids stuck upon Pivots. Glencoe 
 he describes as having fine steps with a green carpet 
 spread upon them, that it is well siuept and free from 
 litters. Even a chambermaid would have scorned such 
 figures of speech upon such an occasion. The Night- 
 ingale, he says, sings in a vulgar manner — he quizzes 
 Shakespeare, condemns Raphael, and abuses Milton — 
 but you must read the book and the copy, if you can 
 get it enriched with my marginal notes, Modest ! , . , 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Feb. 13. 
 
 • • . Do you really think me capable of flattering ? 
 i.f., of saying what I don't think ? Attend to what
 
 LETTERS. xliii 
 
 Julie say on this subject — the sentiment is the same, 
 whether applied to Love or Friendship — " Uamant qui 
 hue en nous des perfections que nous n^avons pas les voii 
 en effet telles qu^'tl les represente. II ne ment point en 
 disant des mensonges,^' &c. Now, I never did pretend 
 to say you were hond-jide — and — and — all that I main- 
 tain is, that I think you so, which proves nothing, 
 because an Ancient Philosopher has proved, or tried to 
 prove (which is all the same in the Greek), that there's 
 no such thing as reality, that life's a dream, pain a 
 fancy, and that we've no further certainty of our exist- 
 ence than what our own imaginations give us. For aught 
 I can tell, you may therefore be as ugly as an ape, as 
 stupid as an owl, as venomous as a toad, as cruel as a 
 hyena — you may destroy your offspring before they're 
 born, like the silly Ostrich — or you may carry them 
 about with you in your Pouch Hke the tender Kangaroo. 
 All these things you may be or do, and yet to my 
 fancy you may be fairer than an Houri, wise as a Genii, 
 benevolent as a Brownie. For my part, were you to 
 cry me up to the skies and tell me I had the Grace and 
 Innocence of Eve, with the beauty and amorous inclina- 
 tions of Cleopatra, the virtue and delicacy of Lucretia, 
 &c. &c., I never should have the incivility to tell you it 
 was all a lie, or that you were speaking nonsense. . . . 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 Deign, Madam, to withdraw your lofty eyes for a 
 while from the flowered chintz of Lady M*Laughlan, 
 and fix them upon the enclosed patterns of silk with 
 the prices (oh ! vulgar sound 1 ) thereto affixed, while 
 I (oh degradation unparalleled in the annals of 
 novel writing) must descend from the sublime region 
 of fiction to — the back of a Counter ! ! ! How shall I
 
 Xliv LETTERS. 
 
 ever be able to cloathe this vulgar translation in elegant 
 language, or where find terms to commune (as one 
 Author ought to commune with another) upon the price 
 of sarsnet and the width of lutestring. Let me try. 
 That whose hue doth emulate the rose, and on its 
 surface smooth doth bear the stars of heaven impressed 
 by heaven's skill, doth on the top shelf of a little shop 
 languish amidst dusty duffells, in which the village dame 
 arrayed to Church or Market hies, and fustian strong, 
 in which for thrift, clad by wise parents, is the wanton 
 school boy, and hard and obdurate rattling in 
 
 form of petticoat against the bare legs of country girl, 
 and broad cloth, drab and blue, of which the careful 
 farmer, after much conning and prudent confab with 
 his dame and neighbours all, doth chuse his Sunday's 
 coat. And flannels Welsh of smell most potent, in 
 which the rheumy Granam seeks to shroud her shrivelled 
 limbs. All these and many more my muse could sing, 
 do with that starry robe abide. Six times the length 
 of thy fair finger is its breadth, by some three-quarters 
 called ; Silver seven times told, by vulgar called seven 
 shillings, the price of each fair yard. Turn we now to 
 where the various hues, such as of painted rainbow, 
 doth delight the roving eye of fickle youth. There's 
 pink, denoting pride and vanity ; and straw colour, 
 mocking the hue of pining maid ; and purple, by some 
 stiled the light of love ; and buff, symbolic of our happy 
 state of nature ; and white, emblem of virgin innocence. 
 All these may then be thine for slips or linings, stout 
 and warm, for twelve times four of pence formed of 
 base brass, and stamped with Britain's power triumphant 
 and monarch's head with laurel bound. And now to 
 paint the lilac I essay. Pride of the spring, welcome 
 thy blossoms fair and odoriferous ! but fairer still to 
 sight of youthful fair when by the Indian Artists' cunning 
 hand thy beauties are with green and gold inwove and
 
 LETTERS. Xlv 
 
 Stripes of silvery white. This in the coffers of a Dame 
 doth dwell, whose niggard hand doth only draw it 
 forth for love of sordid lucre, its extent doth much 
 surpass thy utmost wishes ; but she swears no shears 
 shall e'er sever it in twain so long as she doth own it. 
 Seven yards, I eke, an' half it owns, and for each yard 
 this flinty female doth demand ten shillings good 
 and bright. ... I approve highly of christening each 
 chapter,* but I think we'd as well motto them after- 
 wards. Which of the heroines is to be Constance ? 
 The good girl or the bad ? Call them what you will. 
 Apropos, don't you think Monteith would be a better 
 family name than Douglas ? The second chapter should 
 open with some history of the family, as one is brought 
 quite slap-dash into it without knowing anything about 
 them ; not but what I think people should always 
 speak for themselves in Books, but it may be proper to 
 tell that the Mother died when they were all young, 
 and that the Laird had got his sisters to superintend his 
 family, &c. &c. What think you ? . . . 
 
 To her sister^ Mrs ConnelL 
 
 I. 
 
 Jan. 17, 1802. Edin. 
 
 ... I am much obliged to you for your invitation, 
 and still more for the inducement you hold out to me, 
 but 1 don't feel inclined to go quite so far in quest of 
 a husband. I think you're very bold in promising to 
 insure me one. I assure you it's more than most people ^ 
 would do, or even what I would do for myself. I was 
 at a Concert a few nights ago, where I was somewhat 
 annoyed by Widow Bell, who was there leading four- 
 
 * Of Marriage, in the composition of which Miss C. was 
 consulted from the beginning.
 
 Xlvi LETTERS. 
 
 and'tnvenly maidens ; she looked so queer and so vulgar 
 that I was fain to fight shy. She came bobbing along, 
 striking out at all points and places, keys and coppers 
 jingling in her pockets, led in triumph by a frightful 
 male creature with a large Boiu Windoiu bound in blue 
 and buff and a pair of pea- green upper legs. I thought 
 I should have swooned with shame when she stopped 
 and stared at me. 
 
 II. 
 
 Feb. 1833. 
 
 , . , to-day Mrs Graham * is gone to dine with 
 the Edmonstone6,t who give a fete previous to Mrs 
 Hj^alidayJ and [Miss^ D[eleney EdmonstoneJ setting 
 out on a tour of visits through Renfrewshire, etc., to 
 visit some old friends, who they think must be dropping 
 off soon ! Not a word of their own dropping off ; 
 indeed they seem rather provoked at people for being 
 ill, and I daresay they would give you a good scold for 
 allowing such a crotchet to enter your head as that you 
 could be indisposed, with your charming constitution. 
 They are in great delight at hearing it announced that 
 Sir Archibald's lady is to add a twig to the family tree, 
 and is to come here for the purpose that it may be a 
 Scotch plant. . . . 
 
 To Lady Charlotte Bury,^ 
 
 ... I have been reading the Corsair lately ; it is in- 
 deed exquisite, the most perfect I think of all Byron's 
 performances. What a divine picture of death is that 
 of the description of Guliare ! I am now labouring 
 
 * Her eldest sister. 
 
 f The originals of the aunts in Marriage. 
 
 J From Diary of the Times nf George IV., attributed to Lady B.
 
 LETTERS. Xlvii 
 
 very hard at " Patronage,'* which I must honestly con- 
 fess is the greatest lump of cold Lead I ever attempted 
 to swallow. Truth, Nature, Life, and Sense there is, 
 I daresay, in abundance, but I cannot discover a particle 
 of imagination, taste, wit, or sensibility ; and without 
 these latter qualities I never could feel much pleasure in 
 any book. In a novel especially, such materials are 
 expected and, if not found, it is extremely disappointing 
 to be made to pick a dry bone when one thinks one is 
 going to enjoy a piece of honeycomb. It is for this 
 reason that I almost always prefer a romance to a novel. 
 We see quite enough of real life without sitting down 
 to the perusal of a dull account of the commonplace 
 course and events of existence. The Writer who 
 imitates life like a Dutch painter who chooses for his 
 subject turnips, fraus, and tables, is only the copyist of 
 inferior objects ; whereas the mind that can create a 
 sweet and beautiful though visionary romance, soars 
 above such vulgar topics and leads the mind of readers 
 to elevated thoughts. Besides, it is so agreeable to live 
 for a little while in the enchanted regions of romance ; 
 and since works of fiction are means (at least it is their 
 legitimate aim) to amuse not to instruct ; I think those 
 which do not aspire to be useful, fulfil their calling better 
 than those which set forth rules of morality and pretend 
 to be censors on the public mind and conduct. . • .
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 chapter j^ 
 
 Love! — A word by superstition thought a god; by use 
 turned to an humour ; by self-wiil made a flattering madness. 
 — Alexander and Campaspe. 
 
 « /^^ OME hither, child," said the old Earl of Court- 
 
 \^A land to his daughter, as, in obedience to his 
 
 summons, she entered his study ; " come 
 
 hither, I say ; I wish to have some serious conversation 
 
 with you : so dismiss your dogs, shut the door, and sit 
 
 down here." 
 
 Lady Juliana rang for the footman to take Venus ; 
 bade Pluto be quiet, like a darling, under the sofa ; and, 
 taking Cupid in her arms, assured his lordship he need 
 fear no disturbance from the sweet creatures, and that 
 she would be all attention to his commands — kissing 
 her cherished pug as she spoke. 
 
 " You are now, I think, seventeen, Juliana," said his 
 lordship, in a solemn important tone. 
 
 « And a half, papa." 
 
 " It is therefore time you should be thinking of 
 establishing yourself in the world. Have you ever 
 turned your thoughts that way ? " 
 
 I. A
 
 2 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " N — no, papa, not exactly in the way of establish- 
 ing myself," replied the lady, hesitatingly. 
 
 " That is well ; you have left that for me to do, like 
 a good, wise little girl, as you are. Is it not so, my 
 pretty Jule ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, papa ; but I — I don't know " She 
 
 stopped in evident embarrassment. 
 
 " It is right you should know, however," said the 
 Earl, knitting his brow, " that I can give you no 
 fortune." 
 
 " Oh, I don't in the least care about fortune, papa," 
 eagerly interrupted his daughter, who knew about as 
 much of arithmetic as of alchymy. 
 
 " Don't interrupt me, and don't talk nonsense, 
 child," said Lord Courtland, peevishly. " As I can 
 give you no fortune, you have, perhaps, no greater right 
 than many other pretty portionless girls to expect a very 
 brilliant establishment." 
 
 This was saidf but not thought either by the father 
 or daughter. 
 
 " At any rate, I don't in the least care about that 
 sort of thing," said the lady, disdainfully ; " else, if I 
 
 chose but I assure you, papa, I don't at all care 
 
 about what is called a brilliant establishment." 
 
 " Indeed ! and pray what do you care for, then ? " 
 inquired the earl, opening his eyes to their utmost 
 extent. 
 
 " Why, I shouldn't at all mind being poor," said 
 Lady Juliana, assuming a most heroic air. 
 
 " You shouldn't at all mind being poor ! " repeated 
 his lordship, in utter amazement. " You shouldn't at 
 all mind being poor ! Do you know what you are 
 saying, child ? Do you know what it is to be poor ? " 
 
 " Perfectly^ P^p^/' was pronounced by her ladyship, 
 in a tone of the most high-flown emphasis. 
 " You do ? You have tried it, then ? "
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " No, papa ; but I can easily imagine what it is." 
 
 Lord Courtland hemmed. " Then I suppose I am 
 to understand that you prefer the single state and 
 poverty ? '' 
 
 " Dear papa ! you quite misunderstand me ; I only 
 meant that — that it was nothing to be poor when — 
 when" 
 
 " When what ? " demanded the earl, angrily. 
 
 " When united to the choice of one's heart," an- 
 swered the lady, in a very romantic key. 
 
 " The choice of a fiddlestick ! " exclaimed Lord 
 Courtland, in a rage. " What have you to do with a 
 heart ? what has any body to do with a heart when 
 their establishment in life is at stake ? Keep your heart 
 for your romances, child, and don't bring such nonsense 
 into real life — heart, indeed ! " 
 
 Lady Juliana felt she was now in the true position of 
 a heroine : a handsome lover — an ambitious father — 
 cruel fortune — unshaken constancy. She sighed deeply 
 — even dropped a tear, and preserved a mournful 
 silence. 
 
 The father proceeded in a solemn tone : " You 
 ought to be aware by this time, Julia, that persons of 
 rank must be guided entirely by family considerations in 
 the connexions they form." 
 
 " Of course, papa, one wouldn't marry any but a 
 person of good family, and tolerable fortune, and in the 
 best society " 
 
 " Pooh ! these are nothing," cried the earl, con- 
 temptuously ; " people of biith must marry for the still 
 greater aggrandisement of their family — for the extend- 
 ing of their political influence — for " 
 
 " I don't in the least care about politics, papa ; and 
 I am determined I never will marry anybody who talks 
 politics to me — I hate politics ! " 
 
 ** You are a little fool, and don't know what you will
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 do, or what you are talking about. What does your 
 wise head or heart know about these things ? What 
 do you know of the importance of political family 
 
 connexions ? '' 
 
 " O, thank heaven ! I know nothing about the 
 matter," replied Lady Julia, in a peevish tone. " Have 
 done, Cupid ! " 
 
 " I thought not ; so you have only to be guided by 
 those who do know — that's all, my dear 1 " 
 
 " Have done, Cupid ! " cried the lady, still more 
 fretfully, to her favourite pug, who was amusing himself 
 by tearing the beautiful veil that partly shaded the head 
 of his fair mistress. 
 
 The earl tried to be facetious. " And pray, my 
 pretty Julia, can this same wonderful wise little head of 
 yours tell you who is the happy man with whom I am 
 about to form an alliance for you ? " 
 
 " For me, papa ! " exclaimed Lady Juliana, in a 
 flutter of surprise ; " surely you are not serious ? " 
 
 " Perfectly so — come, guess." 
 
 Had Lady Juliana dared to utter the wishes of that 
 heart, she would have been at no loss for a reply ; but 
 she saw the necessity for dissimulation ; and, after 
 naming such of her admirers as were most indifferent 
 to her, she declared herself quite at a loss, and begged 
 her father to put an end to her suspense. 
 
 " Now, what would you think of the Duke of 
 
 L ? " asked the earl, in a voice of half-smothered 
 
 exultation and delight. 
 
 " The Duke of L ! " repeated Lady Juliana, 
 
 with a scream of horror and surprise ; " surely, papa, 
 you cannot be serious : why, he is red-haired and 
 squints, and he's as old as you, and" 
 
 " If he were as old as sin, and as ugly too," inter- 
 rupted the enraged earl, " he should be your husband ; 
 and with my consent you never shall have any other ! "
 
 MARRIAGE. $ 
 
 The youthful beauty burst into tears, while her father 
 traversed the apartment with an inflamed and wrathful 
 visage. 
 
 " If it had been any body but that odious duke ! " 
 sobbed the lovely Juliana. 
 
 " If it had been any body but that odious duke," re- 
 peated the earl, mimicking her, " they should not have 
 had you. It has been my sole study, ever since I saw 
 your brother settled, to bring about this alliance ; and, 
 when this is accomplished, my utmost ambition will be 
 satisfied. So, no more whining — the affair is settled ; 
 and all that rem.ains for you to do, is to study to make 
 yourself agreeable to his grace, and to sign the settle- 
 ments. No such mighty sacrifice, when repaid with a 
 ducal coronet, the most splendid jewels, the finest 
 equipages, the most magnificent house, the most princely 
 establishment, and the largest jointure, of any woman in 
 England." 
 
 Lady Juliana raised her head, and wiped her eyes. 
 Lord Courtland perceived the effect his eloquence had 
 produced upon the childish fancy of his daughter, and 
 continued to expatiate upon the splendid joys that awaited 
 her, in an union with a nobleman of the duke's rank 
 and fortune ; till at length, dazzled, if not convinced, 
 she declared herself " satisfied that it was her duty to 
 marry whoever papa pleased ; but " — and a sigh escaped 
 her, as she contrasted her noble suitor with her gay 
 handsome lover — tlie admired of all admirers, — " but if 
 I should marry him, papa, I am sure I shall never be 
 able to love him." 
 
 The earl smiled at her childish simplicity, as he ' 
 assured her that was not at all necessary ; that love was 
 now entirely confined to the lower orders : that it was 
 very well for ploughmen and dairy-maids, and such 
 canaille, to marry for love ; but for a young woman of 
 rank to think of such a thing, was plebeian in the extreme !
 
 6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lady Juliana did not entirely subsciibe to the argu- 
 ments of her father ; but the gay and glorious vision 
 that floated in her brain stifled for a while the pleadings 
 of her heart ; and with a sparkling eye, and an elastic 
 step, she hastened to prepare for the reception of the 
 duke. 
 
 For a few weeks the delusion lasted. Lady Juliana 
 was flattered with the homage she received as a future 
 duchess ; she was delighted with the eclat that attended 
 her, and charmed with the daily presents showered upon 
 her by her noble suitor. 
 
 " Well, really, Favolle," said she to her maid, one 
 day, as she clasped on her beautiful arm a resplendent 
 bracelet, " it must be owned the duke has a most ex- 
 quisite taste in trinkets ; don't you think so ? And, do 
 you know, I don't think him so very — ijery ugly. 
 When we are married, I mean to make him get a 
 Brutus, cork his eyebrows, and have a set of teeth.*' 
 But just then, the blue eyes, curling hair, and fine- 
 formed person of a certain captivating Scotsman, rose to 
 view in her mind's eye ; and, with a peevish " pshaw ! " 
 she threw the bauble aside. 
 
 Educated for the sole purpose of forming a brilliant 
 establishment, of catching the eye, and captivating the 
 senses, the cultivation of her mind, or the correction of 
 her temper, had formed no part of the system by which 
 that aim was to be accomplished. Under the auspices 
 of a fashionable mother, and an obsequious governess, 
 the froward petulance of childhood, fostered and 
 strengthened by indulgence and submission, had gradu- 
 ally ripened into that selfishness and caprice which now, 
 in youth, formed the prominent features of her character. 
 The earl was too much engrossed by aflairs of import- 
 ance, to pay much attention to any thing so perfectly 
 insignificant as the mind of his daughter. Her person 
 he had predetermined should be entirely at his disposal,
 
 MARRIAGE. 7 
 
 and he therefore contemplated with delight the uncom- 
 mon beauty which already, distinguished it ; not with 
 the fond partiality of parental love, but with the heart- 
 less satisfaction of»a crafty politician. 
 
 The mind of Lady Juliana was consequently the 
 sport of every passion that by turns assailed it. Now 
 swayed by ambition, and now softened by love : the 
 struggle was violent, but it was short. A few days 
 before the one which was to seal her fate, she granted 
 an interview to her lover, who, young, thoughtless, and 
 enamoured as herself, easily succeeded in persuading her 
 to elope with him to Scotland. There, at the altar of 
 Vulcan, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of Courtland 
 gave her hand to her handsome but penniless lover ; and 
 there vowed to immolate every ambitious desire, every 
 sentiment of vanity and high-born pride. Yet a sigh 
 arose as she looked on the sordid room, uncouth priest, 
 and ragged witnesses ; and thought of the special licence, 
 splendid saloon, and bridal pomp that would have at- 
 tended her union with the duke. But the rapturous 
 expressions which burst from the impassioned Douglas 
 made her forget the gaudy pleasures of pomp and fashion. 
 Amid the sylvan scenes of the neighbouring lakes, the 
 lovers sought a shelter ; and, mutually charmed with 
 each other, time flew for a while on downy pinions. 
 
 At the end of a few months, however, the enamoured 
 husband began to suspect that the lips of his " angel 
 Julia " could utter very silly things ; — while the fond 
 bride, on her part, discovered that, though her " adored 
 Henry's " eyes were perfectly beautiful, yet sometimes 
 she thought they wanted expression ; and though his ' 
 figure was symmetry itself, yet it certainly was deficient 
 in a certain air — a je ne sais quoi — that marks the man 
 of fashion. 
 
 " How I wish I had my pretty Cupid here ! '' said 
 her ladyship with a sigh one day as she lolled on a sofa :
 
 ^ MARRIAGE. 
 
 "he had so many pretty tricks, he would have helped 
 to amuse us, and make the time pass ; for really this 
 place grows very stupid and tiresome ; don't you think 
 so, love ?" 
 
 " Most exceedingly so, my darling," replied her 
 husband, yawning sympathetically as he spoke. 
 
 " Then suppose I make one more attempt to soften 
 papa, and be received into favour again ? " 
 
 " With all my heart." 
 
 " Shall 1 say I'm very sorry for what I have done ? " 
 asked her ladyship with a sigh : " you know I did not 
 say that in my first letter." 
 
 " Ay, do ; and, if it will serve any purpose, you may 
 say that I am no less so." 
 
 In a few days the letter was returned, in a blank 
 cover ; and, by the same post, Douglas saw himself 
 superseded in the Gazette, being absent without leave ! 
 
 There now remained but one course to pursue ; and 
 that was to seek refuge at his father's, in the Highlands 
 of Scotland. At the first mention of it. Lady Juliana 
 was transported with joy ; and begged that a letter 
 might be instantly despatched, containing the offer of a 
 
 visit. She had heard the Duchess of M declare 
 
 nothing could be so delightful as the style of living in 
 Scotland : the people were so frank and gay, and the 
 manners so easy and engaging : oh ! it was delightful ! 
 
 And then Lady G and Lady Mary L , and a 
 
 thousand other lords and ladies she knew, were all so 
 charmed with the country, and all so sorry to leave it. 
 Then dear Henry's family must be so charming ! An 
 old castle, too, was her delight — she should ieoi quite 
 at home while wandering through its long galleries ; and 
 she quite loved old pictures, and armour, and tapestry — 
 and then her thoughts reverted to her father's magnificent 
 mansion in D shire. 
 
 At length an answer arrived, containing a cordial
 
 MARRIAGE. 9 
 
 invitation from the old laird to spend the winter with 
 them at Glenfern Castle. 
 
 All impatience to quit the scenes of their short-lived 
 felicity, they bade a hasty adieu to the now fading 
 beauties of Windermere ; and, full of hope and expecta- 
 tion, eagerly turned towards the bleak hills of Scotland. 
 They stopped for a short time at Edinburgh, to provide 
 themselves with a carriage and some other necessaries. 
 There, too, they fortunately met with an English 
 Abigail and footman, who, for double wages, were pre- 
 vailed upon to attend them to the Highlands ; which, 
 with the addition of two dogs, a tame squirrel, and 
 mackaw, completed the establishment. 
 
 Chapter if. 
 
 What transport to retrace our early plays, 
 Our early bliss, when each thing joy supplied ; 
 The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze 
 Of the wild brooks. Thomson. 
 
 MANY were the dreary muirs, and rugged moun- 
 tains, her ladyship had to encounter in her pro- 
 gress to Glenfern Castle ; and, but for the hope 
 of the new world that awaited her beyond those formid- 
 able barriers, her delicate frame, and still more sensitive 
 feelings, must have sunk beneath the horrors of such a 
 journey. But she remembered the duchess had said the 
 inns and roads were execrable ; and the face of the 
 country, as well as the lower orders of people, frightful : 
 but what signified those things ? There were balls, and 
 rowing matches, and sailing parties, and shooting parties, 
 and fishing parties, and parties of every description : and 
 the certainty of being recompensed by the festivities of
 
 lO MARRIAGE. 
 
 Glenfern Castle reconciled her to the ruggedness of the 
 approach. 
 
 Douglas had left his paternal home and native hills 
 when only eight years of age. A rich relation of his 
 mother's, happening to visit them at that time, took a 
 fancy to the boy ; and, under promise of making him 
 his heir, had prevailed on his parents to part with him. 
 At a proper age he was placed in the Guards, and had con- 
 tinued to maintain himself in the favour of his benefactor 
 until his imprudent marriage, which had irritated the old 
 bachelor so much, that he instantly disinherited him, and 
 refused to listen to any terms of reconciliation. The 
 impressions which the scenes of his infancy had left upon 
 the mind of the young Scotsman, it may easily be sup- 
 posed, were of a pleasing description. He spoke of his 
 own family with all the warmth of early recollection. 
 His father was quite the beau ideal of a Highland 
 gentleman of the old school — frank, high-minded, and 
 warm-hearted ; his aunts so kind, simple, and affection- 
 ate ; his brother so gay, handsome, and good-humoured; 
 his five lovely sisters, Elizabeth, Rebecca, Barbara, 
 Isabella, and Robina, — how charming they must be if 
 they had fulfilled their early promises of youthful and 
 infant beauty ! — how his dear Juliana would love them, 
 and how they would love his dear Juliana ! Then he 
 would expatiate on the wild but august scenery that 
 surrounded his father's castle, and associate with the 
 idea the boyish exploits which, though faintly remem- 
 bered, still served to endear them to his heart. He 
 spoke of the time when he used to make one of a 
 numerous party on the lake, and, when tired of sailing 
 on its glassy surface, to the sound of soft music, they 
 would land at some lovely spot ; and, after partaking of 
 their banquet beneath a spreading tree, conclude the day 
 by a dance on the grass. 
 
 Lady Juliana would exclaim, " How delightful !
 
 MARRIAGE. II 
 
 I dote upon pic-nics and dancing ! — a-propos, 
 Henry, there will surely be a ball to welcome our 
 arrival ? " 
 
 The conversation was interrupted ; for just at that 
 moment they had gained the summit of a very high hill, 
 and the post-boy, stopping to give his horses breath, 
 turned round to the carriage, pointing, at the same 
 time, with a significant gesture, to a tall, thin, grey 
 house, something resembling a tower, that stood in the 
 vale beneath. A small sullen-looking lake was in 
 front, on whose banks grew neither tree nor shrub. 
 Behind, rose a chain of rugged cloud-capped hills, on 
 the declivities of which were some faint attempts at 
 young plantations ; and the only level ground consisted 
 of a few dingy turnip fields, enclosed with rude stone 
 walls, or dikes, as the post-boy called them. It was 
 now November ; the day was raw and cold, and a 
 thick drizzling rain was beginning to fall. A dreary 
 stillness reigned all around, broken only at intervals by 
 the screams of the sea-fowl that hovered over the lake ; 
 on whose dark and troubled waters was dimly descried 
 a little boat, plied by one solitary being. 
 
 " What a scene ! " at length Lady Juliana ex- 
 claimed, shuddering as she spoke. " What a scene ! 
 how 1 pity the unhappy wretches who are doomed to 
 dwell in such a place I And yonder hideous grim 
 house ; it makes me sick to look at it. Do bid him 
 drive on ! " Another significant look from the driver 
 made the colour mount to Douglas's cheek, as he 
 stammered out, " Surely it can't be ; yet somehow I 
 don't know. Pray, my lad," letting down one of the 
 glasses, and addressing the post-boy, " what is the name 
 of that house ? " 
 
 " Hooss ! " repeated the driver ; " ca' ye thon a 
 hooss ? Yon's gude Glenfern Castle." 
 
 Lady Juliana, not understanding a word he said, sat
 
 12 MARRIAGE. 
 
 silently, wondering at her husband*s curiosity respecting 
 such a wretched-looking place. 
 
 " Impossible ! you must be mistaken, my lad : why, 
 what's become of all the fine wood that used to surround 
 it?" 
 
 " Gin you mean a wheen auld firs, there's some o* 
 them to the fore yet," pointing to two or three tall, 
 bare, scathed Scotch firs, that scarcely bent their heads 
 to the wind that now began to howl around them. 
 
 ** I insist upon it that you are mistaken ; you must 
 have wandered from the right road," cried the now 
 alarmed Douglas in a loud voice, which vainly attempted 
 to conceal his agitation. 
 
 " We'll shune see that," replied the phlegmatic 
 Scot, who, having rested his horses, and affixed a drag 
 to the wheel, was about to proceed ; when Lady 
 Juliana, who now began to have some vague suspicion 
 of the truth, called to him to stop, and, almost breath- 
 less with alarm, inquired of her husband the meaning of 
 what had passed. 
 
 He tried to force a smile as he said, " It seems our 
 journey is nearly ended ; that fellow persists in assert- 
 ing that that is Glenfern, though I can scarcely think 
 it. If it is, it is strangely altered since I left it twelve 
 years ago." 
 
 For a moment Lady Juliana was too much alarmed 
 to make a reply : pale and speechless, she sank back in 
 the carriage ; but the motion of it, as it began to pro- 
 ceed, roused her to a sense of her situation, and she 
 burst into tears and exclamations. 
 
 The driver, who attributed it all to fears at descend- 
 ing the hill, assured her she " needna be the least 
 feared, for there were na twa cannier beasts atween 
 that and Johnny Groat's Hooss ; and that they wad 
 hae her at the castle door in a crack, gin they were 
 ance down the brae."
 
 MARRIAGE. I3 
 
 Douglas's attempts to soothe his high-born bride 
 were not more successful than those of the driver : in 
 vain he made use of every endearing epithet and tender 
 expression, and recalled the time when she used to 
 declare that she could dwell with him in a desert ; her 
 only replies were bitter reproaches and upbraidings for 
 his treachery and deceit, mingled with floods of tears, 
 and interrupted by hysterical sobs. Provoked at her 
 folly, yet softened by her extreme distress, Douglas 
 was in the utmost state of perplexity, — now ready to 
 give way to a paroxysm of rage, — then melting into 
 pity, he sought to soothe her into composure ; and, at 
 length, with much difficulty, succeeded in changing her 
 passionate indignation into silent dejection. 
 
 That no fresh objects of horror or disgust might 
 appear to disturb this calm, the blinds were pulled down, 
 and in this state they reached Glenfern Castle. But 
 there the friendly veil was necessarily withdrawn ; and 
 the first object that presented itself to the high-bred 
 Englishwoman was an old man, clad in a short tartan 
 coat and striped woollen nightcap, with blear eyes and 
 shaking hands, who vainly strove to open the carriage 
 door. 
 
 Douglas soon extricated himself, and assisted his 
 lady to alight ; then accosting the venerable domestic 
 as " Old Donald," asked him if he recollected 
 him ? 
 
 " Weel that, weel that, Maister Harry, and ye're 
 welcome hame ; and ye tu, bonny sir '* * (addressing 
 Lady Juliana, who was calling to her footman to 
 follow her with the mackaw) ; then, tottering before 
 them, he led the way, while her ladyship followed, 
 leaning on her husband, her squirrel on her other arm, 
 preceded by her dogs, barking with all their might, and 
 
 * The Highlanders use this term of respect indifferently to 
 both sexes.
 
 14 MARRIAGE. 
 
 attended by the mackaw, screaming with all his strength 
 and in this state was the Lady Juliana ushered into th 
 drawing-room of Glenfern Castle ! 
 
 Ci)apter iij^ 
 
 What can be worse 
 Than to dwell here ? 
 
 Paradhe Lost. 
 
 IT was a long, narrow, low-roofed room, with 
 number of small windows, that admitted feeb] 
 lights in every possible direction. The scant 
 furniture bore every appearance of having been con 
 structed at the same time as the edifice ; and the friend 
 ship thus early formed still seemed to subsist, as th 
 high-backed worked chairs adhered most pertinacious 
 ly to the grey walls, on which hung, in narrow blac 
 frames, some of the venerable ancestors of the Dougla 
 family, A fire, which appeared to have been newl 
 kindled, was beginning to burn, but, previous to show 
 ing itself in flame, had chosen to vent itself in smoke 
 with which the room was completely filled, and th 
 open windows seemed to produce no other effect tha 
 that of admitting the wind and rain. 
 
 At the entrance of the strangers, a flock of female 
 rushed forward to meet them. Douglas good-hum 
 ouredly submitted to be hugged by three long-chinne 
 spinsters, whom he recognised as his aunts, and warml 
 saluted five awkward purple girls he guessed to be hi 
 sisters : while Lady Juliana stood the image of despai] 
 and, scarcely conscious, admitted in silence the civilitie 
 of her new relations ; till, at length, sinking into 
 chair, she endeavoured to conceal her agitation b 
 calling to the dogs, and caressing her mackaw.
 
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 MARRIAGE 1$ 
 
 The laird, who had been hastily summoned from his 
 farming operations, now entered. He was a good- 
 looking old man, with something of the air of a gentle- 
 man, in spite of the inelegance of his dress, his rough 
 manner, and provincial accent. After warmly welcom- 
 ing his son, he advanced to his beautiful daughter-in- 
 law, and, taking her in his arms, bestowed a loud 
 and hearty kiss on each cheek ; then, observing the 
 paleness of her complexion, and the tears that swam in 
 her eyes, " What ! not frightened for our Highland 
 hills, my leddy ? Come, cheer up — trust me, ye'U 
 find as warm hearts among them as ony ye hae left in 
 your fine English policies " — shaking her delicate fingers 
 in his hard muscular gripe, as he spoke. 
 
 The tears, which had with difficulty been hitherto 
 suppressed, now burst in torrents from the eyes of the 
 high-bred beauty, as she leant her cheek against the 
 back of a chair, and gave way to the anguish which 
 mocked control. 
 
 To the loud, anxious inquiries, and oppressive kind- 
 ness of her homely relatives, she made no reply ; but, 
 stretching out her hands to her husband, sobbed, 
 " Take, oh ! take me from this place ! " 
 
 Mortified, ashamed, and provoked, at a behaviour so 
 childish and absurd, Douglas could only stammer out 
 something about Lady Juliana having been frightened 
 and fatigued ; and, requesting to be shown to their 
 apartment, he supported her almost lifeless to it, while 
 his aunts followed, all three prescribing different 
 remedies in a breath. 
 
 " Oh, take them from me ! " faintly articulated 
 Lady Juliana, as she shrank from the many hands that 
 were alternately applied to her pulse and forehead. 
 
 After repeated entreaties and plausible excuses from 
 Douglas, his aunts at length consented to withdraw ; 
 and he then exerted all the rhetoric he was master of,
 
 l6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 to reconcile his bride to the situation love and necessity 
 had thrown her into. But in vain he employed reason- 
 ing, caresses, and threats ; the only answers he could 
 extort were tears and entreaties to be taken from a 
 place where she declared she felt it impossible to 
 exist. 
 
 ** If you wish my death, Harry," said she, in a 
 voice almost inarticulate from excess of weeping, " oh ! 
 kill me quickly, and do not leave me to linger out my 
 days, and perish at last with misery here ! " 
 
 " Only tell me what you would have me to do," 
 said her husband, softened to pity by her extreme dis- 
 tress, " and, if possible, I will comply with your wishes." 
 
 " Oh ! then, stop the horses, and let us return im- 
 mediately — do fly, dearest Harry, else they will be 
 gone, and we shall never get away from this odious 
 place ! " 
 
 " Where would you go ? " asked he, with affected 
 calmness. 
 
 " Oh, any where — no matter where, so as we do but 
 get away from hence — we can be at no loss." 
 
 " None in the world," interrupted Douglas, with a 
 bitter smile, " as long as there is a prison to receive us. 
 See," continued he, throwing a few shillings down on 
 the table, "there is every sixpence I possess in the 
 world." 
 
 Lady Juliana stood aghast. 
 
 At that instant, the English Abigail burst into the 
 room ; and, in a voice choking with passion, she re- 
 quested her discharge, that she might return with the 
 driver who had brought them there. 
 
 " A pretty way of travelling, to be sure, it will be," 
 continued she, " to go bumping behind a dirty chaise- 
 driver ; but better to be shook to a jelly altogether, 
 than stay amongst such a set of Oaten-toads.^^ * 
 
 * Hottentots.
 
 MARRIAGE. I7 
 
 " What do you mean ? " inquired Douglas, as soon 
 as the voluble Abigail allowed him an opportunity of 
 asking. 
 
 "Why, my meaning, sir, is to leave this here place 
 immediately. Not that I have any objections either to 
 my lady, or you, sir ; but, to be sure, it was a sad day 
 for me that I engaged myself to her ladyship. Little 
 did I think that a lady of distinction would be coming 
 to such a poor pitiful place as this. I am sure I 
 thought I should ha' swooned when I was showed the 
 hole where I was to sleep." 
 
 At the bare idea of this indignity to her person, the 
 fury of the incensed fair one blazed forth with such 
 strength as to choke her utterance. 
 
 Amazement had hitherto kept Lady Juliana silent ; 
 for to such scenes she was a stranger. Born in an 
 elevated rank — reared in state — accustomed to the most 
 obsequious attention — and never approached but with 
 the respect due rather to a divinity than to a mortal, — 
 the strain of vulgar insolence that now assailed her was 
 no less new to her ears than shocking to her feelings. 
 With a voice and look that awed the woman into 
 obedience, she commanded her to quit her presence for 
 ever ; and then, no longer able to suppress the emotions 
 of insulted pride, wounded vanity, and indignant dis- 
 appointment, she gave way to a violent fit of hysterics. 
 
 In the utmost perplexity, the unfortunate husband, by 
 turns, cursed the hour that had given him such a wife ; 
 now tried to soothe her into composure ; but at length, 
 seriously alarmed at the increasing attack, he called loudly 
 for assistance. 
 
 In a moment, the three aunts and the five sisters all 
 rushed together into the room, full of wonder, exclama- 
 tion, and inquiry. Many were the remedies that were 
 tried, and the experiments that were suggested ; till, at 
 length, the violence of passion exhausted itself, and a 
 
 I. B
 
 1 8 MARRIAGE. 
 
 faint sob, or deep sigh, succeeded the hysteric 
 scream. 
 
 Douglas now attempted to account for the behaviour 
 of his noble spouse, by ascribing it to the fatigue she had 
 lately undergone, joined to distress of mind at her father's 
 unrelenting severity towards her. 
 
 " O the amiable creature ! " interrupted the unsuspect- 
 ing spinsters, almost stifling her with their caresses as 
 they spoke. " Welcome, a thousand times welcome, to 
 Glenfern Castle ! " said Miss Jacky, who was esteemed 
 by much the most sensible woman, as well as the greatest 
 orator, in the whole parish. " Nothing shall be want- 
 ing, dearest Lady Juliana, to compensate for a parent's 
 rigour, and make you happy and comfortable. Consider 
 this as your future home. My sisters and myself will 
 be as mothers to you : and see these charming young 
 creatures," dragging forward two tall, frightened girls, 
 with sandy hair and great purple arms ; " thank Provi- 
 dence for having blest you with such sisters 1 " 
 
 " Don't speak too much, Jacky, to our dear niece at 
 present," said Miss Grizzy ; " I think one of Lady 
 Maclaughlan's composing draughts would be the best 
 thing for her — there can be no doubt about that." 
 
 " Composing draughts at this time of day ! " cried 
 Miss Nicky; "I should think a little good broth a 
 much wiser thing. There are some excellent family 
 broth making below, and I'll desire Tibby to bring a 
 few." 
 
 " Will you take a little soup, love ? " asked Douglas. 
 His lady assented ; and Miss Nicky vanished, but quickly 
 re-entered, followed by Tibby, carrying a huge bowl of 
 coarse Scotch broth, swimming with leeks, greens, and 
 grease. Lady Juliana attempted to taste it, but her deli- 
 cate palate revolted at the homely fare ; and she gave up 
 the attempt, in spite of Miss Nicky's earnest entreaties 
 to take a few more of these excellent family broth.
 
 MARRIAGE. I9 
 
 " I should think," said Henry, as he vainly attempted 
 to stir it round, " that a little wine would be more to the 
 purpose than this stuff." 
 
 The aunts looked at each other ; and, withdrawing 
 to a corner, a whispering consultation took place, in 
 which " Lady Maciaughlan's opinion, birch, balm, 
 currant, heating, cooling, running risks," &c., &c., 
 transpired. At length the question was carried ; and 
 some tolerable sherry, and a piece of very substantial 
 short-bread^ were produced. 
 
 It was now voted by Miss Jacky, and carried nem, 
 con., that her ladyship ought to take a little repose till 
 the hour of dinner. 
 
 " And don't trouble to dress," continued the con- 
 siderate aunt, " for we are not very dressy here : and we 
 are to be quite a charming family party, nobody but our- 
 selves, and," turning to her nephew, " your brother and 
 his wife. She is a most superior woman, though she 
 has rather too many of her English prejudices yet to be 
 all we could wish ; but I have no doubt, when she has 
 lived a little longer amongst us, she will just become 
 one of ourselves." 
 
 I forget who she was ? " said Douglas. 
 
 A grand-daughter of Sir Duncan Malcolm's, a very 
 
 old family of the blood, and nearly allied to the 
 
 present earl. And here they come," exclaimed she, on 
 hearing the sound of a carriage ; and all rushed out to 
 receive them. 
 
 " Let us have a glimpse of this scion from a noble 
 stock," said Lady Juliana, mimicking the accent of the 
 poor spinsters, as she rose and ran to the window. 
 
 " Oh, Henry ! do come and behold this equipage ! " 
 and she laughed with childish glee, as she pointed to a 
 plain old-fashioned gig, with a large top. A tall hand- 
 some young man now alighted, and lifted out a female 
 figure, so enveloped in a cloak, that eyes less penetrating 
 
 (C
 
 20 MARRIAGE. 
 
 than Lady Juliana's could not, at a single glance, have 
 discovered her to be a " frightful quiz.'' 
 
 " Only conceive the effect of this dashing equipage 
 in Bond Street ! " continued she, redoubling her mirth 
 at the bright idea : then suddenly stopping, and sighing, 
 " Ah, my pretty vis-a-vis / I remember the first time 
 I saw you, Henry, I was in it at a review ; " and she 
 sighed still deeper. 
 
 *' True ; I was then aide-de-camp to your handsome 
 lover, the Duke of L ." 
 
 " Perhaps I might think him handsome now. People's 
 taste alter according to circumstances." 
 
 " Yours must have undergone a wonderful revolution, 
 if you can find charms in a hunchback of fifty-three." 
 
 " He is not a hunchback," returned her ladyship 
 warmly ; " only a little high-shouldered : but, at any 
 rate, he has the most beautiful place and the finest house 
 in England." 
 
 Douglas saw the storm gathering on the brow of his 
 capricious wife, and, clasping her in his arms, " Are 
 you indeed so changed, my Julia, that you have forgot 
 the time when you used to declare you would prefer a 
 desert with your Henry, to a throne with another ? " 
 
 ** No, certainly, not changed ; but — T — I did not 
 very well know then what a desert was ; or, at least, I 
 had formed rather a different idea of it." 
 
 " What was your idea of a desert ? " said her hus- 
 band, laughing ; " do tell me, love ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I had fancied it a beautiful place, full of 
 roses and myrtles, and smooth green turf, and murmur- 
 ing rivulets, and, though very retired, not absolutely 
 out of the world ; where one could occasionally see 
 one's friends, and give dejeunes et fetes champetres.^^ 
 
 " Well, perhaps the time may come, Juliana, when 
 we may realise your Elysian deserts ; but, at present, 
 you know, I am wholly dependent on my father. I
 
 MARRIAGE. 21 
 
 hope to prevail on him to do something for me ; and 
 that our stay here will be short ; as, you may be sure, 
 the moment I can I will take you hence. I am 
 sensible it is not a situation for you ; but for my sake, 
 dearest Juliana, bear with it for a while, without 
 betraying your disgust. Will you do this, darling ? " 
 and he kissed away the sullen tear that hung on her 
 cheek. 
 
 "You know, love, there's nothing in the world I 
 wouldn't do for you," replied she, as she played with 
 her squirrel ; " and, as you promise our stay shall be 
 short, if I don't die of the horrors I shall certainly try 
 to make the agreeable. O my cherub ! " flying to her 
 pug, who came barking into the room, " where have 
 you been, and where's my darling Psyche, and sweet 
 mackaw ? Do, Harry, go and see after the darlings." 
 " I must go and see my brother and his wife first. 
 Will you come, love ? " 
 
 " Oh, not now ; I don't feel equal to the encounter : 
 besides, I must dress. But what shall I do, since that 
 vile woman's gone ? I can't dress myself. I never 
 did such a thing in my life ; and I am sure it's im- 
 possible that I can," almost weeping at the hardships 
 she was doomed to experience in making her own 
 toilette. 
 
 *' Shall I be your Abigail ? " asked her husband, 
 smiling at the distress ; " methinks it would be no 
 difficult task to deck my Julia." 
 
 " Dear Harry, will you really dress me ? Oh, that 
 will be delightful ! I shall die with laughing at your 
 awkwardness ; " and her beautiful eyes sparkled with ' 
 childish delight at the idea. 
 
 " In the mean time," said Douglas, " I'll send 
 some one to unpack your things ; and after I have 
 shook hands with Archie, and been introduced to my 
 new sister, I shall enter on my office,"
 
 22 MARRIAGE. 
 
 ** Now do, pray, make haste ; for I die to see your 
 great hands tying strings, and sticking pins." 
 
 Delighted with her gaiety and good humour, he 
 left her caressing her favourites ; and, finding rather a 
 scarcity of female attendance, he despatched two of 
 his sisters to assist his helpless beauty in her arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 Cl)aptet it>> 
 
 And ever against eating cares, 
 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs. V Allegro. 
 
 Such solace as the bagpipe can give, they have long enjoyed. 
 — Dr Johnson's Journey to the Western Isles. 
 
 WHEN Douglas returned, he found the floor 
 strewed with dresses of every description ; 
 his sisters on their knees before a great trunk 
 they were busied in unpacking, and his lady in her 
 wrapper, with her hair about her ears, still amusing 
 herself with her pets. 
 
 " See, how good your sisters are," said she, pointing 
 to the poor girls, whose inflamed faces bore testimony 
 to their labours. " I declare, I am quite sorry to see 
 them take so much trouble," yawning as she leant back 
 in her chair ; " is it not quite shocking, Tommy ? " 
 kissing her squirrel. "Oh, pray, Henry, do tell me 
 what I am to put on ; for I protest I don't know. 
 Favolle always used to choose for me ; and so did that 
 odious Martin, for she had an exquisite taste." 
 
 " Not so exquisite as your own, I am sure ; so, for 
 once, choose for yourself." replied the good-humoured 
 husband ; " and pray make haste, for my father waits 
 dinner." 
 
 Betwixt scolding, laughing, and blundering, the dress 
 was at length completed ; and Lady Juliana, in all the
 
 MARRIAGE. 23 
 
 pomp of dress and pride of beauty, descended, leaning 
 on her husband's arm. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, which was now in a 
 more comfortable state, Douglas led her to a lady who 
 was sitting by the fire ; and, placing her hand within 
 that of the stranger, " Juliana, my love," said he, " this 
 is a sister whom you have not yet seen, and with whom 
 I am sure you will gladly make acquaintance." 
 
 The stranger received her noble sister with graceful 
 ease ; and, with a sweet smile and pleasing accent, ex- 
 pressed herself happy in the introduction. Lady Juhana 
 was surprised, and somewhat disconcerted. She had 
 arranged her plans, and made up her mind to be con- 
 descending ; she had resolved to enchant by her sweet- 
 ness, dazzle by her brilliancy, and overpower by her 
 affability. But there was a simple dignity in the air 
 and address of the lady, before which even high-bred 
 affectation sunk abashed. Before she found a reply to 
 the courteous yet respectful salutation of her sister-in- 
 law, Douglas introduced his brother ; and the old 
 gendeman, impatient at any farther delay, taking Lady 
 Juliana by the hand, pulled rather than led her into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Even Lady Juliana contrived to make a meal of the 
 roast mutton and muirfowl ; for the laird piqued him- 
 self on the breed of his sheep, and his son was too good 
 a sportsman to allow his friends to want for game. 
 
 " I think my darling Tommy would rehsh this grouse 
 very much," observed Lady Juliana, as she secured the 
 last remaining wing for her favourite ; " bring him 
 here! " turning to the tall, dashing lacquey who stood, 
 behind her chair, and whose handsome livery and well- 
 dressed hair formed a striking contrast to old Donald's 
 tartan jacket and bob-wig. 
 
 " Come hither, my sweetest cherubs ! " extending 
 her arms towards the charming trio, as they entered,
 
 24 MARRIAGE. 
 
 barking, and chattering, and flying to their mistress. A 
 scene of noise and nonsense ensued. 
 
 Douglas remained silent, mortified and provoked at 
 the weakness of his wife, which not even the silver 
 tones of her voice, or the elegance of her manners, 
 could longer conceal from him. But still there was a 
 charm in her very folly, to the eye of love, which had 
 not yet wholly lost its power. 
 
 After the table was cleared, observing that he was 
 still silent and abstracted, Lady Juliana turned to her 
 husband ; and, laying her hand on his shoulder, " You 
 are not well, love ! " said she, looking up in his face, 
 and shaking back the redundant ringlets that shaded her 
 own. 
 
 " Perfectly so,'* replied her husband, with a sigh. 
 
 "What, dull? then I must sing to enliven you." 
 And, leaning her head on his shoulder, she warbled a 
 verse of the beautiful little Venetian air La Biondina in 
 Gondoletta. Then suddenly stopping, and fixing her 
 eyes on Mrs Douglas, " I beg pardon, perhaps you 
 don't like music ; perhaps my singing's a bore ? " 
 
 " You pay us a bad compliment in supposing so," 
 said her sister-in-law, smiling ; " and the only atone- 
 ment you can make for such an injurious doubt is to 
 proceed." 
 
 " Does any body sing here ? " asked she, without 
 noticing this request. " Do, somebody, sing me a 
 song." 
 
 " O ! we all sing, and dance too," said one of the 
 old young ladies ; " and after tea we will show you 
 some of our Scotch steps ; but, in the mean time, Mrs 
 Douglas will favour us with her song." 
 
 Mrs Douglas assented good-humouredly, though 
 aware that it would be rather a nice point to please 
 all parties in the choice of a song. The laird reckoned 
 all foreign music, i.e., everything that was not Scotch,
 
 MARRIAGE. 2$ 
 
 an outrage upon his ears ; and Mrs Douglas had too 
 much taste to murder Scotch songs with her Enghsh 
 accent. She therefore compromised the matter as well 
 as she could, by selecting a Highland ditty clothed in 
 her own native tongue ; and began to sing, with much 
 pathos and simplicity, a verse or two of the lamented 
 Leyden's " Fall of Macgregor." 
 
 " In the vale of Glenorchy the night breeze was sighing 
 O'er the tomb where the ancient Macgregors are lying ; 
 Green are their graves by their soft murmuring river, 
 But the name of Macgregor has perish 'd for ever. 
 
 ' On a red stream of light, by his grey mountains glancing, 
 Soon I beheld a dim spirit advancing ; 
 Slow o'er the heath of the dead was its motion, 
 Like the shadow of mist o'er the foam ot the ocean. 
 
 " Like the sound of a stream through the still evening dying, — 
 Stranger ! who treads where Macgregor is lying? 
 Darest thou to walk, unappall'd and firm-hearted, 
 'Mid the shadowy steps of the mighty departed ? 
 
 " See ! round thee the caves of the dead are disclosing 
 The shades that have long been in silence reposing ; 
 Thro' their forms dimly twinkles the moonbeam descending, 
 As upon thee their red eyes of wrath they are bending. 
 
 « Our grey stones of fame through the heath-blossom cover, 
 Round the fields of our battles our spirits still hover ; 
 Where we oft saw the streams running red from the 
 
 mountains ; 
 But dark are our forms by our blue native fountains. 
 
 " For our fame melts away like the foam of the river, 
 Like the last yellow leaves on the oak-boughs that shiver : 
 The name is unknown of our fathers so gallant ; 
 And our blood beats no more in the breasts of the valiant. 
 
 " The hunter of red deer now ceases to number 
 The lonely grey stones on the field of our slumber. — 
 Fly, stranger ! and let not thine eye be reverted ; 
 Why should'st thou see that our fame is departed ? "
 
 26 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Pray, do you play on the harp ? " asked the vola- 
 tile lady, scarcely waiting till the first stanza was ended ; 
 " and, a-propos, have you a good harp here ? " 
 
 " We've neither gude nor bad," said the old gentle- 
 man gruffly : " the lassies hae something else to do than 
 to be strumming upon harps." 
 
 " We have a very sweet spinnet," said Miss Jacky, 
 " which, in my opinion, is a far superior instrument ; 
 and Bella will give us a tune upon it. Bella, my dear, 
 let Lady Juliana hear how well you can play." 
 
 Bella, blushing like a peony rose, retired to a corner 
 of the room, where stood the spinnet ; and, with great, 
 heavy, trembling hands, began to belabour the unfor- 
 tunate instrument, while the aunts beat time, and en- 
 couraged her to proceed with exclamations of admiration 
 and applause. 
 
 " You have done very well, Bella," said Mrs 
 Douglas, seeing her preparing to execute another piece, 
 and pitying the poor girl, as well as her auditors. 
 Then whispering Miss Jacky that Lady Juliana looked 
 fatigued, they arose to quit the room. 
 
 " Give me your arm, love, to the drawing-room," 
 said her ladyship, languidly. " And now, pray, don't 
 be long away," continued she, as he placed her on the 
 sofa, and returned to the gentlemen. 
 
 Cib^pter t^ 
 
 You have displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting 
 With most admir'd disorder. Macbeth. 
 
 THE interval, which seemed of endless duration 
 to the hapless Lady Juliana, was passed by the 
 aunts in giving sage counsel as to the course of 
 life to be pursued by married ladies. Worsted stock-
 
 MARRIAGE. 27 
 
 ings and quilted petticoats were insisted upon as indis- 
 pensable articles of dress ; while it was plainly insinuated, 
 that it was utterly impossible any child could be healthy, 
 whose mother had not confined her wishes to barley 
 broth and oatmeal porridge. 
 
 " Only look at these young lambs," said Miss Grizzy, 
 pointing to the five great girls ; " see what pictures of 
 health they are ! I'm sure I hope, my dear niece, your 
 children will be just the same — only boys, for we are 
 sadly in want of boys. It*s melancholy to think we 
 have not a boy among us, and that a fine auntient race 
 like ours should be dying away for want of male heirs." 
 And the tears streamed down the cheeks of the good 
 spinster as she spoke. 
 
 The entrance of the gentlemen put a stop to the 
 conversation. 
 
 Flying to her husband. Lady Juliana began to whisper, 
 in very audible tones, her inquiries, whether he had yet 
 got any money — when they were to go away, &c., &c. 
 
 " Does your ladyship choose any tea ? " asked Miss 
 Nicky, as she disseminated the little cups of coarse black 
 liquid. 
 
 " Tea ! oh no, I never drink tea — I'll take coffee ; 
 but Psyche loves tea." And she tendered the beverage, 
 that had been intended for herself, to her favourite. 
 
 " Here's no coffee," said Douglas, surveying the 
 tea-table ; " but I will ring for some," as he pulled 
 the bell. 
 
 Old Donald answered the summons. 
 
 " Where's the coffee ? " demanded Miss Nicky. 
 
 " The coffee ! " repeated the Highlander ; " troth, 
 Miss Nicky, an' it's been clean forgot. An' 'deed it's 
 nae wonder, considering the confusion that has been in 
 this hooss this day ! " And he held up his hands, as if to 
 bear testimony to what his tongue was unable to declare. 
 
 " Well, but you can get it yet ? " said Douglas,
 
 28 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " 'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's ower far gane 
 lor't noo ; for the fire's a' ta'en up, ye see," reckoning 
 with his fingers, as he proceeded ; " there's parritch 
 makin' for oor supper ; and there's patatees boiling for 
 the beasts ; and " 
 
 " I'll see about it myself," said Miss Nicky, leaving 
 the room, with old Donald at her back, muttering all the 
 way. 
 
 The old laird, all this while, had been enjoying his 
 evening nap ; but, that now ended, and the tea equipage 
 being dismissed, starting up, he asked what they were 
 about, that the dancing was not begun. 
 
 " Come, my leddy, we'll set the example," snapping 
 his fingers, and singing, in a hoarse voice, 
 
 *' The mouse is a merry beastie, 
 And the moudiwort wants the een ; 
 But folk sail ne'er get wit, — 
 Sae merry as we twa hae been." 
 
 " But whar's the girlies ? " cried he. « Ho ! Belle, 
 Becky, Betty, Baby, Beeny — to your posts ! " 
 
 The young ladies, eager for the delights of music 
 and dancing, now entered, followed by Coil, the piper, 
 dressed in the native garb, with cheeks seemingly ready 
 blown for the occasion. After a little strutting and 
 puffing, the pipes were fairly set agoing in Coil's most 
 spirited manner. But vain would be the attempt to de- 
 scribe Lady Juliana's horror and amazement at the 
 hideous sounds that for the first time assailed her ear. 
 Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentleman, 
 who was just setting off in the reel, she flew shrieking 
 to her husband, and threw herself trembling into his 
 arms, while he called loudly to the self-delighted Coil 
 to stop. 
 
 " What's the matter — what's the matter ? " cried the 
 whole family, gathering round.
 
 MARRIAGE. 29 
 
 " Matter ! " repeated Douglas warmly, ** you have 
 frightened Lady Juliana to death ; — what did you 
 mean," turning fiercely to the astonished piper, *' by 
 blowing that abominable bladder ? " 
 
 Poor Coil gaped with astonishment ; for never before 
 had his performance on the bagpipe been heard but with 
 admiration and applause. 
 
 " A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the 
 pipes," said the old gentleman, as he went puffing up 
 and down the room : " she's no the wife for a Heeland- 
 man ; — abominable blather, indeed ! By my troth, ye're 
 no blate ! " 
 
 " I declare it's the most distressing thing I ever met 
 with," sighed Miss Grizzy ; " I wonder whether it 
 could be the sight or the sound of the bagpipe that 
 frightened our dear niece. I wish to goodness Lady 
 Maclaughlan was here ! " 
 
 " It's impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody," 
 said Miss Jacky, in a high key ; " nobody with common 
 sense could be frightened at a bagpipe." 
 
 Mrs Douglas here mildly interposed, and soothed 
 down the offended pride of the Highlanders, by attri- 
 buting Lady Juliana's agitation entirely to surprise. 
 The word operated like a charm ; all were ready to 
 admit, that it was a surprising thing when heard for the 
 first time. Miss Jacky remarked, that we are all liable 
 to be surprised ; and the still more sapient Grizzy said, 
 that indeed it was most surprising the effect that sui'prise 
 had upon some people. For her own part, she could 
 not deny but that she was very often frightened when 
 she was surprised, and very often surprised at having 
 been frightened. 
 
 Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the 
 terrors, real or affected, of his delicate bride ; who 
 declared herself so exhausted with the fatigue she had 
 undergone, and the sufferings she had endured, that she
 
 3© MARRIAGE. 
 
 must retire for the night. Henry, eager to escape from 
 the questions and remarks of his family, gladly availed 
 himself of the same excuse ; and, to the infinite morti- 
 fication of both aunts and nieces, the ball was broke up. 
 
 Cljaptcr Of* 
 
 What choice to choose for delicacy best. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 OF what nature were the remarks passed in the 
 parlour upon the young couple, has not 
 reached the writer of these memoirs with as 
 much exactness as the foregoing circumstances ; but 
 they may in part be imagined from the sketch already 
 given of the characters which formed the Glenfern 
 party. The conciliatory indulgence of Mrs Douglas, 
 when aided by the good natured Miss Grizzy, doubt- 
 less had a favourable effect on the irritated pride, but 
 short-lived acrimony, of the old gentleman. Certain 
 it is, that before the evening concluded they appeared all 
 restored to harmony, and retired to their respective cham- 
 bers in hopes of beholding a more propitious morrow. 
 
 Who has not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches, in 
 praise of that balmy blessing, sleep ; from the divine 
 effusions of Shakspeare down to the drowsy notes of 
 newspaper poets ? 
 
 Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. 
 Sweet is its influence on the care-worn eyes, to tears 
 accustomed ! In its arms the statesman forgets his 
 harassed thoughts ; the weary and the poor are blessed 
 by its influence ; and conscience — even conscience — is 
 sometimes soothed into silence while the sufferer sleeps. 
 But no where, perhaps, is its influence more happily 
 felt, than in the heart oppressed by the harassing accu-
 
 MARRIAGE. 3 1 
 
 mulation of petty ills : like a troop of locusts, making 
 up by their number and their stings what they want in 
 magnitude. 
 
 Mortified pride in discovering the fallacy of our own 
 judgment, — to be ashamed of what we love, yet still to 
 love, — are feelings most unpleasant ; and, though they 
 assume not the dignity of deep distress, yet philosophy 
 has scarce any power to soothe their worrying, inces- 
 sant annoyance. Douglas was glad to forget himself 
 in sleep. He had thought a vast deal that day, and, 
 of unpleasant subjects, more than the whole of his fore- 
 going life would have produced. If he did not 
 execrate the fair object of his imprudence, he at least 
 execrated his own folly and himself; and these were 
 his last waking thoughts. 
 
 But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven 
 sleepers ; and, in consequence of having retired sooner 
 to bed than he was accustomed to do, he waked at an 
 early hour in the morning. 
 
 The wonderful activity which people sometimes feel 
 when they have little to do with their bodies, and less 
 with their minds, caused him to rise hastily and dress, 
 hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue of his 
 locomotive powers. 
 
 On descending to the dining parlour, he found his 
 father seated at the window, carefully perusing a pam- 
 phlet, written to illustrate the principle, Let nothing he 
 lostf and containing many sage and erudite directions 
 for the composition and dimensions of that ornament to 
 a gentleman's farm-yard, and a cottager's front door, 
 yclept, in the language of the country, a midden — with 
 the signification of which we would not, for the world, 
 shock the more refined feelings of our southern readers. 
 
 Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juliana : 
 hoped she had rested well : hoped they found the bed 
 comfortable, not too many blankets, nor too few pillows,
 
 32 MARRIAGE. 
 
 &c., &c. These inquiries were interrupted by the laird, 
 who requested his son to take a turn with him while 
 breakfast was getting ready, that they might talk over 
 past events, and new plans ; that he might see the 
 plantation on the hill ; the draining of the great moss ; 
 with other agricultural concerns which we shall omit, 
 not having the same power of commanding attention 
 from our readers, as the laird had from his hearers. 
 
 After repeated summonses, and many inquiries from 
 the impatient party already assembled round the break- 
 fast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance, accom- 
 panied by her favourites, whom no persuasions of her 
 husband could prevail upon her to leave behind. 
 
 As she entered the room, her olfactory nerves were 
 smote with gales, not of " Araby the blest," but of old 
 cheese and herrings, with which the hospitable board 
 was amply provided. 
 
 The ladies having severally exchanged the salutations 
 of the morning. Miss Nicky commenced the operation 
 of pouring out tea, while the laird laid a large piece of 
 herring on her ladyship's plate. 
 
 " What am I to do with this ? " exclaimed she : 
 " do take it away, or I shall faint ! " 
 
 " Brother, brother ! " cried Miss Grizzy, in a tone 
 of alarm, " I beg you won't place any unpleasant ob- 
 ject before the eyes of our dear niece. I declare ! — 
 Pray, was it the sight or the smell of the beast ^ that 
 shocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana ? Vm 
 sure, I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was 
 come ! " 
 
 Mr Douglas, or the major, as he was styled, im- 
 mediately rose, and pulled the bell. 
 
 " Desire my gig to be got ready immediately after 
 breakfast ! " said he. 
 
 * In Scotland, everything that flies and swims ranks in 
 the bestial tribe.
 
 MARRIAGE. 33 
 
 The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other, 
 without speaking ; but the old gentleman expressed his 
 surprise that his son should think of leaving them so 
 soon. 
 
 " May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolu- 
 tion ? " at length said Miss Jacky, in a tone of stifled 
 indignation. 
 
 " Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it. It is 
 because I find there is company expected.'* 
 
 The three ladies turned up their hands and eyes in 
 speechless horror. 
 
 " Is it that virtuous woman, Lady Maclaughlan, you 
 would shun, nephew ? " demanded Miss Jacky. 
 
 ** It is that insufferable pest I would shun," replied 
 her nephew, with a heightened colour, and a violence 
 very unusual with him. 
 
 The good Miss Grizzy drew out her pocket hand- 
 kerchief; while Mrs Douglas vainly endeavoured to 
 silence her husband, and avert the rising storm. 
 
 " Dear Douglas ! " whispered she, in a tone of 
 reproach. 
 
 " Oh, pray let him go on," said Miss Jacky, almost 
 choking under the effort she made to appear calm. 
 " Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlan's character, 
 luckily, is far above the reach of calumny ; nothing 
 that Major Archibald Douglas can say will have power 
 to change our opinions, or, I hope, to prejudice his 
 brother and Lady Juliana against this most exemplary, 
 virtuous woman — a woman of family, although Eng- 
 lish — of fortune — of talents — of accomplishments ! — a 
 woman of unblemished reputation ! of the strictest 
 morals ! sweetest temper ! charming heart ! delightful 
 spirits ! — so charitable ! every year gives fifty flannel 
 petticoats to the old people of the parish " 
 
 " Then such a wife as she is ! " sobbed out Miss 
 Grizzy. " And no wonder, considering that she has 
 
 I. C
 
 34 MARRIAGE. 
 
 been twice married ; and she has discovered I can't tell 
 you how many most invaluable medicines for his com- 
 plaint, and makes a point of his taking some of them 
 every day : but for her, I'm sure he would have been 
 in his grave long ago — there can be no doubt about 
 that." 
 
 " She is doing all she can to send him there, as she 
 has done many a poor wretch already, with her vile 
 compositions," said Mr Douglas. 
 
 Here Miss Grizzy sunk back in her chair, overcome 
 with horror ; and Miss Nicky let fall the tea-pot, the 
 scalding contents of which discharged themselves upon 
 the unfortunate Psyche, whose yells, mingling with the 
 screams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned even 
 Miss Jacky's oratory. 
 
 " Oh ! what shall I do ? " cried Lady Juliana, as she 
 bent over her favourite. " Do send for a surgeon ; pray 
 do fetch one directly, or she will die ; and it would quite 
 kill me to lose my darling. Do fly, dearest Harry ! " 
 
 " My dear Julia, how can you be so absurd ? there is 
 no surgeon within twenty miles of this." 
 
 " No surgeon within twenty miles ! " exclaimed she, 
 starting up. " How could you bring me to such a place ! 
 Those dear creatures may die— I may die myself before 
 I can get any assistance ! " 
 
 " Don't be frightened, my dear niece," said the good 
 Miss Grizzy in a soothing accent. " I assure you you 
 are perfectly safe here, for we are all doctors, and have 
 plenty of every kind of medicine you can think of in 
 the house — our excellent friend Lady Maclaughlan takes 
 good care of that; and I'm sure if it hadn't been for 
 her we might all have been dead twenty times over ; 
 but she is perfect mistress of every disease that ever was 
 heard of, — there's no doubt about that ! " 
 
 " Put a cauld patatee to the beast's paw," said the 
 laird gruffly.
 
 MARRIAGE. 35 
 
 " Animals must learn patience as well as others," said 
 Miss Jacky. 
 
 " We are never too old to learn," said Miss 
 Nicky. 
 
 *' I'm sure that's true — nobody can dispute that," said 
 Miss Grizzy, " but at the same time I declare I think 
 we ought to try that new box of scald ointment of Lady 
 Maclaughlan's ; I'm certain she would think it well 
 bestowed." 
 
 " If it don't cure, it will kill," said Mr Douglas, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Brother ! " said Miss Jacky, rising with dignity from 
 her chair, and waving her hand as she spoke — " Brother ! 
 I appeal to you, to protect the character of this most 
 amiable, virtuous, respectable matron from the insults 
 and calumny your son thinks proper to load it with. 
 The daughter of Sir Hildebrand Dak — the great-grand- 
 daughter of our common ancestress Lady Janet Camp- 
 bell — the widow of Colonel Lawless — the wife of Sir 
 Sampson Maclaughlan — to be thus blackened and 
 wounded by your son ! Brother ! Sir Sampson Mac- 
 laughlan is your friend ; and it therefore becomes your 
 duty to defend his wife to your latest breath ! " 
 
 " Troth, but I'll hae enough to do, if I am to stand 
 up for a' my friends' wives," said the old gentleman. 
 " But, however, Archie, you are to blame : Leddy 
 Maclaughlan is a very respectable woman ; at least, as 
 far as I ken, though she is a little free in the gab ; and, 
 out of respect to my auld friend Mr Sampson, it is my 
 desire that you should remain here to receive him, and 
 that you treat both him and his leddy discreetly." 
 
 This was said in too serious a tone to be disputed ; 
 and his son was obliged to submit. 
 
 The ointment meanwhile having been applied to 
 Psyche's paw, peace v/as restored, and breakfast recom- 
 menced.
 
 36 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " I declare our dear niece has not tasted a morsel," 
 observed Miss Nicky. 
 
 " Bless me, here's charming barley-meal scones," cried 
 one, thrusting a plateful of them before her. — " Here's 
 tempting pease-bannocks," interposed another, " and oat 
 cakes ! Fm sure your ladyship never saw such cakes." 
 
 ** I can't eat any of those things," said their delicate 
 niece, with an air of disgust. " I should like some 
 muffin and chocolate." 
 
 " You forget you are not in London, my love," said 
 her husband, reproachfully. 
 
 " No, indeed I do not forget it. Well, then, give 
 me some toast," with an air of languid condescension. 
 
 " Unfortunately, we happen to be quite out of loaf 
 bread at present," said Miss Nicky ; " but we've sent 
 to Drymsine for some. They bake excellent bread at 
 Drymsine." 
 
 " Is there nothing within the bounds of possibility 
 you could fancy, Julia ? " asked Douglas. " Do think, 
 love." 
 
 " I think I should like some grouse, or a beef steak, 
 if it was very nicely done," returned her ladyship in a 
 languishing tone. 
 
 " Beef steak ! " repeated Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " Beef steak ! " responded Miss Jacky. 
 
 " Beef steak ! " reverberated Miss Nicky. 
 
 After much deliberation and consultation amongst 
 the three spinsters, it was at length unanimously carried 
 that the lady's whim should be indulged. 
 
 " Only think, sisters," observed Miss Grizzy in an 
 undertone, " what reflections we should have to make 
 upon ourselves, if any of our descendants were to re- 
 semble a moor-fowl ! " 
 
 " Or have a face like a raw beef steak ! " said Miss 
 Nicky. 
 
 These arguments were unanswerable ; and a smoking
 
 MARRIAGE. 37 
 
 Steak and plump moor-fowl were quickly produced ; of 
 which Lady Juliana partook, in company with her four- 
 footed favourites. 
 
 — o- 
 
 When winter soaks the fields, and female feet — 
 Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
 Or ford the rivulets — are best at home. 
 
 The Task. 
 
 THE meal being at length concluded, Glenfern 
 desired Henry to attend him on a walk, as he 
 wished to have a little more private conversa- 
 tion with him. Lady Juliana was beginning a remon- 
 strance against the cruelty of taking Harry away from 
 her ; when her husband whispering her, that he hoped 
 to make something of the old gentleman, and that he 
 should soon be back, she suffered him to depart in 
 silence. 
 
 Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing 
 the table of its heterogeneous banquet, it was quickly 
 covered with the young ladies' work. 
 
 Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. Miss 
 Jacky sat with one eye upon Lady Juliana, the other 
 upon her five nieces. Miss Grizzy seated herself by 
 her ladyship, holding a spread letter of Lady Mac- 
 laughlan's before her as a screen. 
 
 While the young ladies busily plied their needles, 
 the elder ones left no means untried to entertain their 
 listless niece, whose only replies were exclamations of 
 weariness, or expressions of affection bestowed upon her 
 favourites. 
 
 At length even Miss Jacky's sense, and Miss 
 Grizzy's good-nature, v/ere at fault ; when a ray of
 
 38 MARRIAGE. 
 
 sunshine darting into the room suggested the idea of a 
 walk. The proposal was made, and assented to by her 
 ladyship, in the twofold hope of meeting her husband 
 and pleasing her dogs, whose whining and scratching 
 had for some time testified their desire of a change. 
 The ladies therefore separated to prepare for their sortie, 
 after many recommendations from the aunts to be sure 
 to hap * well ; but, as if distrusting her powers in that 
 way, they speedily equipped themselves, and repaired to 
 her chamber, arrayed cap-a-pie in the walking costume 
 of Glenfern Castle. And, indeed, it must be owned 
 their style of dress was infinitely more judicious than 
 that of their fashionable niece ; and it was not surpris- 
 ing that they, in their shrunk duffle great-coats, vast 
 poke-bonnets, red worsted neckcloths, and pattens, 
 should gaze with horror at her lace cap, lilac satin 
 pelisse, and silk shoes. Ruin to the whole race of 
 Glenfern, present and future, seemed inevitable from 
 such a display of extravagance and imprudence. Hav- 
 ing surmounted the first shock. Miss Jacky made a 
 violent effort to subdue her rising wrath ; and, with a 
 sort of convulsive smile, addressed Lady Juliana : 
 " Your ladyship, I perceive, is not of the opinion of 
 our inimitable bard, who, in his charming poem * The 
 Seasons,' says, * Beauty needs not the foreign aid of 
 ornament ; but is, when unadorned, adorned the 
 most.' That is a truth that ought to be impressed on 
 every young woman's mind." 
 
 Lady Juliana only stared. She was as little accus- 
 tomed to be advised as she was to hear Thomson's 
 Seasons quoted. 
 
 " I declare that's all quite true," said the more tem- 
 porising Grizzy ; " and certainly our girls are not in 
 the least taken up about their dress, poor things ! 
 which is a great comfort. At the same time, I'm sure 
 
 * Wrap.
 
 MARRIAGE. 39 
 
 it*s no wonder your ladyship should be taken up about 
 yours, for certainly that pelisse is most beautiful, — 
 nobody can deny that ; and I dare say it is the very 
 newest fashion. At the same time, I'm just afraid 
 that it's rather too delicate, and that it might perhaps 
 get a little dirty on our roads ; for although, in general, 
 our roads are quite remarkable for being always dry, 
 which is a great comfort in the country, yet, you know, 
 the very best roads of course must be wet sometimes. 
 And there's a very bad step just at the door almost, 
 which Glenfern has been always speaking about getting 
 mended. But, to be sure, he has so many things to 
 think about, that it's no wonder he forgets sometimes ; 
 but I dare say he will get it done very soon now." 
 
 The prospect of the road being mended produced 
 no better effect than the quotation from Thomson's 
 Seasons. It was now Miss Nicky's turn. 
 
 " I'm afraid your ladyship will frighten our stirks 
 and stots with your finery. I assure you, they are 
 not accustomed to see such fine figures ; and," putting 
 her hand out at the window, " I think it's spitting 
 already." * 
 
 All three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady 
 Juliana to put on something warmer and more wise-like. 
 
 " I positively have nothing," cried she, wearied with 
 their importunities, " and I shan't get any winter things 
 now till I return to town. My roquelaire does very 
 well for the carriage." 
 
 The acknowledgment at the beginning of this speech 
 was enough. All three instantly disappeared, like the 
 genii of Aladdin's lamp, and, like that same person, , 
 presently returned, loaded with what, in their eyes, 
 were precious as the gold of Arabia. One displayed a 
 hard worsted shawl, with a flower-pot at each corner ; 
 another held up a tartan cloak, with a hood ; and a 
 * A common expression in Scotland to signify slight rain
 
 40 MARRIAGE. 
 
 third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined with 
 flannel ; while one and all showered down a variety of 
 old bonnets, fur tippets, hair soles, clogs, pattens, and 
 endless et ceteras. Lady Juliana shrank with disgust 
 from these " delightful haps," and resisted all attempts 
 to have them forced upon her, declaring, in a manner 
 which showed her determined to have her own way, 
 that she would either go out as she was, or not go out 
 at all. The aunts were therefore obliged to submit, and 
 the party proceeded to what was termed the high road, 
 though a stranger would have sought in vain for its 
 pretensions to that title. Far as the eye could reach, 
 and that was far enough, not a single vehicle could be 
 descried on it, though its deep ruts showed that it was 
 well frequented by carts. The sceneiy might have 
 had charms for Ossian, but it had none for Lady 
 Juliana ; who would rather have been entangled in a 
 string of Bond Street equipages, than traversing " the 
 lonely heath, with the stream murmuring hoarsely ; the 
 old trees groaning in the wind ; the troubled lake," and 
 the still more troubled sisters. As may be supposed, 
 she very soon grew weary of the walk. The bleak 
 wind pierced her to the soul ; her silk slippers and lace 
 flounces became undistinguishable masses of mud ; her 
 dogs chased the sheep, and were, in their turn, pursued 
 by the " nowts," as the ladies termed the steers. One 
 sister expatiated on the great blessing of having a peat 
 moss at their door ; another was at pains to point out 
 the purposed site of a set of new offices ; and the third 
 lamented that her ladyship had not on thicker shoes, 
 that she might have gone and seen the garden. More 
 than ever disgusted and wretched, the hapless Lady 
 Juliana returned to the house, to fret away the time till 
 her husband's return.
 
 MARRIAGE. 41 
 
 Chapter f>iij^ 
 
 On se rend insupportable dans la societe par des 
 
 defauts legers, mais qui se font sentir a tout moment. — 
 Voltaire. 
 
 THE family of Glenfern have already said so much 
 for themselves, that it seems as if little remained 
 to be told by their biographer. Mrs Douglas 
 was the only member of the community who was at all 
 conscious of the unfortunate association of characters and 
 habits that had just taken place. She was a stranger to 
 Lady Juliana ; but she was interested by her youth, 
 beauty, and elegance, and felt for the sacrifice she had 
 made, — a sacrifice so much greater than it was possible 
 she ever could have conceived or anticipated. She 
 could in some degree enter into the nature of her feelings 
 towards the old ladies ; for she, too, had felt how dis- 
 agreeable people might contrive to render themselves, 
 without being guilty of any particular fault ; and how 
 much more difficult it is to bear with the weaknesses 
 than the vices of our neighbours. Had these ladies' 
 failings been greater in a moral point of view, it might not 
 have been so arduous a task to put up with them. But 
 to love such a set of little, trifling, tormenting foibles, all 
 dignified with the name of virtues, required, from her 
 elegant mind, an exertion of its highest principles ; a 
 continual remembrance of that difficult Christian precept, 
 " to bear with one another." A person of less sense 
 than Mrs Douglas would have endeavoured to open the 
 eyes of their understandings, on what appeared to be 
 the folly and narrow-mindedness of their ways ; but 
 she refrained from the attempt, not from want of 
 benevolent exertion, but from an innate conviction that 
 their foibles all originated in what was now incurable ; 
 viz., the natural weakness of their minds, together
 
 42 MARRIAGE. 
 
 with their ignorance of the world, and the illiberality 
 and prejudices of a vulgar education. "These poor 
 women/* reasoned the charitable Mrs Douglas, "are, 
 perhaps, after all, better characters in the sight of God 
 than I am. He who has endowed us all as his wisdom 
 has seen fit, and has placed me amongst them, — Oh ! 
 may he teach me to remember, that we are all his 
 children, and enable me to bear with their faults, while 
 I study to correct my own," 
 
 Thus did this amiable woman contrive, not only to 
 live in peace, but, without sacrificing her own liberal 
 ideas, to be actually beloved by those amongst whom 
 her lot had been cast, however dissimilar to herself. 
 But for that Christian spirit, (in which must ever be 
 included a liberal mind and gentle temper), she must 
 have felt towards her connexions a still stronger re- 
 pugnance than was even manifested by Lady Juliana ; 
 for Lady Juliana's superiority over them was merely that 
 of refined habits and elegant manners ; whereas Mrs 
 Douglas's was the superiority of a noble and highly 
 gifted mind, which could hold no intercourse with theirs, 
 except by stooping to the level of their low capacities. 
 But, that the merit of her conduct may be duly 
 appreciated, I shall endeavour to give a slight sketch 
 of the female dramatis persona of Glenfern Castle. 
 
 Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is 
 reckoned a very sensible woman — which generally 
 means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal director 
 of all men, women, and children — a sort of super- 
 intendent of all actions, time, and place — with un- 
 questioned authority to arraign, judge, and condemn, 
 upon the statutes of her own supposed sense. Most 
 country parishes have their sensible woman, who lays 
 down the law on all affairs spiritual and temporal. 
 Miss Jacky stood unrivalled as the sensible woman 
 of Glenfern. She had attained this eminence, partly
 
 MARRIAGE. 43 
 
 from having a little more understanding than her 
 sisters, but principally from her dictatorial manner, 
 and the pompous, decisive tone, in which she delivered 
 the most common-place truths. At home, her 
 supremacy in all matters of sense was perfectly estab- 
 lished ; and thence the infection, like other super- 
 stitions, had spread over the whole neighbourhood. 
 As a sensible woman, she regulated the family, which 
 she took care to let everybody see ; she was con- 
 ductor of her nieces' education, which she took care 
 to let every body hear ; she was a sort of postmistress- 
 general — a detector of all abuses and impositions ; 
 and deemed it her prerogative to be consulted about 
 all the useful and useless things, which every body 
 else could have done as well. She was liberal of 
 her advice to the poor, always enforcing upon them 
 the iniquity of idleness, but doing nothing for them 
 in the way of employment — strict economy being 
 one of the many points in which she was particularly 
 sensible. The consequence was, while she was lec- 
 turing half the poor women in the parish for their 
 idleness, the bread was kept out of their mouths, by 
 the incessant shaping, and sewing, and marking, and 
 marring, and putting in, and picking out, and carding 
 of wool and knitting of stockings, and spinning, and 
 reeling, and winding, and pirning, that went on 
 amongst the ladies themselves. And, by the bye. Miss 
 Jacky is not the only sensible woman who thinks 
 she is acting a meritorious part, when she converts what 
 ought to be the portion of the poor into the employment 
 of the affluent. 
 
 In short. Miss Jacky was all over sense. A skilful 
 physiognomist would, at a single glance, have detected 
 the sensible woman, in the erect head, the compressed 
 lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even her 
 very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing char-
 
 44 MARRIAGE. 
 
 acter of their mistress : her ruff always looked more 
 sensible than any other body's ; her shawl sat more 
 sensibly on her shoulders ; her walking shoes were 
 acknowledged to be very sensible ; and she drew on her 
 gloves with an air of sense, as if the one arm had been 
 Seneca, the other Socrates. From what has been said, 
 it may easily be inferred that Miss Jacky was, in fact, 
 any thing but a sensible woman ; as indeed no one can 
 be, who bears such visible outward marks of what is in 
 reality the most quiet and unostentatious of all good 
 qualities. But there is a spurious sense, which passes 
 equally well with the multitude : it is easily assumed, 
 and still easier maintained ; common truths, and a grave, 
 dictatorial air, being all that is necessary for its support. 
 Miss Grizzy's character will not admit of as long a 
 commentary as that of her sister : she was merely dis- 
 tinguishable from nothing by her simple good nature. 
 the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, which 
 she always sought to adjust by an emphatic asseveration. 
 her love of letter-writing, and her friendship with Lad}) 
 Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky had about as much sense aj 
 Miss Jacky ; but, as no kingdom can maintain twc 
 kings, so no family can admit of two sensible women : 
 and Nicky was, therefore, obliged to confine hers to the 
 narrowest possible channels of housekeeping, mantua- 
 making, &c., and to sit down for Hfe (or at least tilj 
 Miss Jacky should be married) with the dubious char- 
 acter of " not wanting for sense either." With all 
 these little peccadilloes, the sisters possessed some gooc 
 properties : they were well-meaning, kind-hearted, and, 
 upon the whole, good-tempered ; they loved one another, 
 revered their brother, doated upon their nephews anc 
 nieces, took a lively interest in the poorest of their pooi 
 cousins a hundred degrees removed, and had a firm con- 
 viction of the perfectibility of human nature, as exempli- 
 fied in the persons of all their own friends. " Ever

 
 MARRIAGE. 45 
 
 their failings leaned to virtue's side ; " for whatever 
 they did was with the intention of doing good, though 
 the means they made use of generally produced an 
 opposite effect. In short, they were not of the M'Larty, 
 or " canna he fashed^^ school ; for their life was one 
 continued y^rj-^ about every thing or nothing. But there 
 are so many Miss Douglases in the world, that doubt- 
 less every one of my readers is as well acquainted with 
 them as I am myself. I shall, therefore, leave them to 
 finish the picture according to their own ideas, while I 
 return to the parlour, where the worthy spinsters are 
 seated in expectation of the arrival of their friend. 
 
 Cl)apter \u 
 
 Though both 
 Not equal; as their sex not equal seemed — 
 For contemplation he, and valour formed ; 
 For softness she, and sweet attractive grace. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 ""II 7' HAT can have come over Lady Mac- 
 y y laughlan ? " said Miss Grizzy, as she sat 
 at the window in a dejected attitude. 
 
 " T think I hear a carriage at last," cried Miss Jacky, 
 turning up her ear : " Wisht ! let us listen." 
 
 " It's only the wind," sighed Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " It's the cart with the bread," said Miss Nicky. 
 
 " It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you," pronounced 
 Miss Jacky. 
 
 The heavy rumble of a ponderous vehicle now pro- 
 claimed the approach of the expected visitor ; which 
 pleasing anticipation was soon changed into blissful 
 certainty, by the approach of a high-roofed, square- 
 bottomed, pea-green chariot, drawn by two long-tailed
 
 46 MARRIAGE. 
 
 white horses, and followed by a lacquey in the High- 
 land garb. Out of this equipage issued a figure clothed 
 in a light coloured, large flowered chintz raiment, care- 
 fully drawn through the pocket holes, either for its own 
 preservation, or the more disinterested purpose of dis- 
 playing a dark short stuflP petticoat, which, with the 
 same liberality, afforded ample scope for the survey of 
 a pair of delicately formed feet and ankles, clad in 
 worsted stockings and black leather shoes something 
 resembling buckets. A faded red cloth jacket, which 
 bore evident marks of having been severed from its 
 native skirts, now acted in the capacity of a spencer. 
 On the head rose a stupendous fabric, in the form of a 
 cap, on the summit of which was placed a black beaver 
 hat, tied a la poissarde, A small black satin muff in 
 one hand, and a gold-headed walking-stick in the 
 other, completed the dress and decoration of this 
 personage. 
 
 The lacquey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage ; 
 and putting in both his hands, as if to catch something, 
 he pulled forth a small bundle, enveloped in a military 
 cloak, the contents of which would have baffled con- 
 jecture, but for the large cocked hat, and little booted 
 leg, which protruded at opposite extremities. 
 
 A loud, but slow and well modulated, voice now 
 resounded through the narrow stone passage that con- 
 ducted to the drawing-room. 
 
 " Bring him in — bring him in, Philistine 1 I alwaj'^s 
 call my man Philistine, because he has Sampson in his 
 hands. Set him down there," pointing to an easy chair, 
 as the group now entered, headed by Lady Maclaughlan. 
 
 ** Well, girls ! '' addressing the venerable spinsters, 
 as they severally exchanged a tender salute : so you're 
 all alive, I see : — humph ! " 
 
 "Dear Lady Maclaughlan, allow me to introduce 
 our beloved niece, Lady Juliana Douglas,'* said Miss 
 
 V
 
 MARRIAGE. 47 
 
 Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as she spoke, with 
 ill suppressed exultation. 
 
 ** So — you're very pretty — yes, you are very pretty ! '* 
 kissing the forehead, cheeks, and chin of the youthhil 
 beauty, between every pause. Then, holding her at 
 arm's length, she surveyed her from head to foot, with 
 elevated brows, and a broad fixed stare. 
 
 " Pray sit down, Lady Maclaughlan," cried her 
 three friends all at once, each tendering a chair. 
 
 " Sit down ! " repeated she ; " why, what should I 
 sit down for ? I choose to stand — I don't like to sit 
 — I never sit at home — Do I, Sir Sampson ? " turning 
 to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a 
 violent fit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk 
 back, seemingly quite exhausted, while the Philistine 
 was endeavouring to disencumber him of his military 
 accoutrements. 
 
 " How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is ! " 
 said the sympathising Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " Distressing, child ! No — it's not the least dis- 
 tressing. How can a thing be distressing that does no 
 harm ? He's much the better of it — it's the only exer- 
 cise he gets." 
 
 " Oh ! well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a 
 thousand pities to stop it," replied the accommodating 
 spinster. 
 
 " No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop it ! " re- 
 turned Lady Maclaughlan, in her loud authoritative 
 tone ; " because, though it's not distressing, it's very 
 disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped — you might as 
 well talk of stopping the wind — it is a cradle 
 cough." 
 
 " My dear Lady Maclaughlan ! " screamed Sir 
 Sampson, in a shrill pipe, as he made an effort to raise 
 himself, and rescue his cough from this aspersion ; " how 
 can you persist in saying so, when I have told you so
 
 48 MARRIAGE. 
 
 often it proceeds entirely from a cold caught a few years 
 
 ago, when I attended his Majesty at " Here a 
 
 violent relapse carried the conclusion of the sentence 
 along with it. 
 
 " Let him alone — don't meddle with him," called 
 his lady to the assiduous nymphs who were bustling 
 around him — " leave him to Philistine ; he's in very 
 good hands when he is in Philistine's.'* Then, resting 
 her chin upon the head of her stick, she resumed her 
 scrutiny of Lady Juliana. 
 
 ** You really are a pretty creature ! You've got a 
 very handsome nose, and your mouth's very well, but I 
 don't quite like your eyes, they're too large and too 
 light ; they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyes. 
 Why ha'nt you black eyes ? you're not a bit like your 
 father — I knew him very well. Your mother was an 
 heiress, your father married her for her money, and she 
 married him to be a countess, and so that's the history 
 of their marriage — humph." 
 
 This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvary- 
 ing tone, and with unmoved muscles ; for though the 
 lady seldom failed of calling forth some conspicuous 
 emotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on the coun- 
 tenances of her hearers, she had never been known to 
 betray any correspondent feelings on her own. Yet her 
 features were finely formed, marked, and expressive ; 
 and, in spite of her ridiculous dress and rude eccentric 
 manners, an air of aristocracy, and even of dignity, was 
 diffused over her whole person, that screened her from the 
 ridicule or insult to which she must otherwise have been 
 exposed. For amazement at the uncouth garb and 
 singular address of Lady Maclaughlan, was seldom un- 
 mixed with terror at the stern imperious manner that 
 accompanied all her words and actions. Such were the 
 feelings of Lady Juliana, as she remained subjected to 
 her rude gaze, and impertinent remarks.
 
 MARRIAGE. 49 
 
 (( 
 
 My lady ! " squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his 
 easy chair. 
 
 " My love ? " interrogated his lady, as she leaned 
 upon her stick. 
 
 " I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana 
 Douglas ; so give me your hand," attempting, at the 
 same time, to emerge from the huge leathern receptacle 
 into which he had been plunged by the care of the kind 
 sisters. 
 
 " Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson," cried they as 
 usual all at once ; " our sweet niece will come to you ; 
 don*t take the trouble to rise, pray don't," each putting 
 a hand on this man of might, as he was half risen, and 
 pushing him down. 
 
 " Ay, come here, my dear," said Lady Maclaughlan ; 
 ** you're abler to walk to Sir Sampson than he to you," 
 pulling Lady Juliana in front of the easy chair; " there 
 — that's her ; you see she is very pretty." 
 
 *' Zounds, what is the meaning of all this ! " screamed 
 the enraged baronet. " My Lady Juliana Douglas, I 
 am shocked beyond expression at this freedom of my 
 lady's. I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons ; 
 pray be seated. I'm shocked — I am ready to faint at 
 the impropriety of this introduction, so contrary to all 
 rules of etiquette. How could you behave in such a 
 manner, my Lady Maclaughlan ? " 
 
 " Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very 
 good legs, but they can't walk," replied she, with her 
 usual sangfroid. 
 
 " My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound 
 me ! " stuttering with rage. " My Lady Juliana 
 Douglas, see here," stretching out a meagre shank, to 
 which not even the military boot and large spur could 
 give a respectable appearance. " You see that leg 
 strong and straight," stroking it down ; " now, behold 
 the fate of war ! " dragging forward the other, which 
 
 I. D
 
 5© MARRIAGE. 
 
 was shrunk and shrivelled to almost one half Its original 
 dimensions. ** These legs were once the same ; but I 
 repine not — I sacrificed it in a noble cause — to that leg 
 my sovereign owes his life ! " 
 
 " Well, I declare, I had no idea ; I thought always 
 it had been rheumatism," burst from the lips of the 
 astonished spinsters, as they crowded round the illustrious 
 limb, and regarded it with looks of veneration. 
 
 " Humph ! " emphatically uttei-ed his lady. 
 
 ** The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told : I 
 happened to be attending his majesty at a review ; I 
 
 was then aide-de-camp to Lord . His horse 
 
 took fright, I — I — I," — here, in spite of all the efforts 
 that could be made to suppress it, the royal cough burst 
 forth with a violence that threatened to silence its brave 
 owner for ever. 
 
 " It's very strange you will talk, my love," said his 
 sympathising lady, as she supported him ; " talking never 
 did and never will agree with you ; it's very strange what 
 pleasure people take in talking — humph ! " 
 
 " Is there any thing dear Sir Sampson could take ? " 
 asked Miss Grizzy. 
 
 " Could take ? I don't know what you mean by could 
 take. He couldn't take the moon, if you mean that ; 
 but he must take what I give him ; so call Philistine, 
 he knows where my cough tincture is." 
 
 " Oh, we have plenty of it in this press," said Miss 
 Grizzy, flying to a cupboard ; and, drawing forth a 
 bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it to Sir 
 Sampson. 
 
 " I'm poisoned ! " gasped he, feebly ; " that's not my 
 lady's cough-tincture." 
 
 " Not cough-tincture ! " repeated the horror-struck 
 doctress, as for the first time she examined the label ; 
 " O ! I declare, neither it is — its my own stomach 
 lotion. Bless me, what will be done ! " and she
 
 MARRIAGE. 5 1 
 
 wrung her hands in despair. " Oh, Murdoch," flying 
 to the Philistine, as he entered with the real cough- 
 tincture, " IVe given Sir Sampson a dose of my own 
 stomach lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the 
 consequences ! " 
 
 " Oo, but hur needna be feared, hur will no be a hair 
 the war o't ; for hur wadna tak' the stuff that the leddie 
 ordered hur yesterday." 
 
 " Well, I declare things are wisely ordered," ob- 
 served Miss Grizzy ; " in that case, it may do dear Sir 
 Sampson a great deal of good." 
 
 Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas and 
 his father entered, and the ceremony of presenting her 
 nephew to her friend was performed by Miss Grizzy in 
 her most conciliating manner. 
 
 " Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is your nephew 
 Henry, who, I know, has the highest veneration for Sir 
 Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you. Lady Mac- 
 laughlan takes the greatest interest in everything that 
 concerns Lady Juliana and you." 
 
 " Humph ! " rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed 
 him from head to foot : " so your wife fell in love with 
 you, it seems : well, the more fool she ; I never knew 
 any good come of love marriages ; — my first marriage 
 
 was a love match — humph ! my second was 
 
 humph ! " 
 
 Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this 
 extraordinary address, and, withdrawing himself from 
 her scrutiny, resumed his station by the side of his 
 Juliana. 
 
 " Now, girls, I must go to my toilette ; which of you 
 am 1 to have for my handmaid ? " 
 
 " Oh, we'll all go ! " eagerly exclaimed the three 
 nymphs ; " our dear niece will excuse us for a little ; 
 young people are never at a loss to amuse one another." 
 
 ** Venus and the Graces ! " exclaimed Sir Sampson,
 
 52 MARRIAGE. 
 
 bowing with an air of gallantry ; " and now I must go 
 and adonise a little myself." 
 
 The company then separated, to perform the important 
 offices of the toilet. 
 
 Chapter jc* 
 
 Nature here 
 Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will 
 Her virgin fancies. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 THE gentlemen were already assembled round the 
 drawing-room fire, impatiently waiting the hour 
 of dinner, when Lady Maclaughlan and her three 
 friends entered. The masculine habiliments of the morn- 
 ing had been exchanged for a more feminine costume. 
 She was now arrayed in a pompadour satin negligee, and 
 petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. A high starched 
 handkerchief formed a complete breastwork, on which, 
 amidst a large bouquet of truly artificial roses, reposed a 
 miniature of Sir Sampson, a la militaire, A small fly 
 cap of antique lace was scarcely perceptible on the 
 summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, hemmed in on 
 each side by large curls. The muff and stick had been 
 relinquished for a large fan, something resembling an 
 Indian skreen, which she waved to and fro in one hand, 
 while a vast brocaded work-bag was suspended from the 
 other. 
 
 " So, Major Douglas, your servant," said she, in 
 answer to the constrained formal bow with which he 
 saluted her on her entrance — " why, it's so long since 
 I've seen you, that you may be a grandfather for aught 
 I know." 
 
 The poor awkward Misses at that moment came 
 sneaking into the room : " As for you, girls, you'll
 
 MARRIAGE. 53 
 
 never be grandmothers ; you'll never be married, unless 
 to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that ; 
 it would save you the trouble of combing your hair, and 
 tying your shoes, for then you could go without clothes 
 altogether — humph ! you'd be much better without 
 clothes than to put them on as you do," seizing upon 
 the luckless Miss Baby, as she endeavoured to steal 
 behind backs. 
 
 And here, in justice to the lady, it must be owned, 
 that, for once, she had some grounds for animadversion 
 in the dress and appearance of the Misses Douglas. 
 
 They had staid out, running races, and riding on a 
 pony, until near the dinner hour ; and, dreading their 
 father's displeasure should they be too late, they had, 
 with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick morning 
 dresses for thin muslin gowns, made, by a mantua- 
 maker of the neighbourhood, in the extreme of a two- 
 year-old fashion, when waists ivere not. 
 
 But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish In 
 the length of theirs, and the staymaker had, according 
 to their aunt's direction, given them full measure of 
 their new dark stays, there existed a visible breach be- 
 tween the waists of their gowns and the bands of their 
 petticoats, which they had vainly sought to adjust by a 
 meeting. Their hair had been curled, but not combed ; 
 and dark gloves had been hastily drawn on to hide red 
 arms. 
 
 " I suppose," continued the stern Lady Maclaugh- 
 lan, as she twirled her victim round and round ; " I 
 suppose you think yourself vastly smart and well 
 dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed : 
 one would suppose Ben Jonson had you in his eye 
 when he composed that song " : Then in a voice like 
 thunder, she chanted forth — 
 
 " Give me a look, give me a face 
 That makes simplicity a grace ;
 
 54 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, 
 
 Such sweet neglect more taketh me," &c., &c. 
 
 Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplexity, between 
 her inclination to urge something in extenuation for 
 the poor girls, and her fear of dissenting from Lady 
 Maclaughlan, or rather of not immediately agreeing 
 with her ; she, therefore, steered, as usual, the middle 
 course, and kept saying, " Well, children, really what 
 Lady Maclaughlan says, is all very true ; at the same 
 time," turning to her friend, — ** I declare it's not much 
 to be wondered at ; young people are so thoughtless, 
 poor lambs ! " 
 
 " Thoughtless ! " in a tone that struck a panic into 
 poor Miss Grizzy's gentle breast. " Thoughtless ! 
 why, what have these girls to think about but lacing 
 their stays and combing their hair ? It don't signify 
 what you wear," continued she, addressing the culprits, 
 as they sat in a corner, in all the various postures which 
 awkwardness suggests — " I say, it don't signify what 
 you wear, so as it's clean and well put on ; — you would 
 be more respectable figures in your father's nightcaps 
 than with these mops." 
 
 " What's a' this wark aboot ? " said the old gentle- 
 man, angrily ; " the girlies are weel eneugh ; I see 
 naething the matter wi' them — they're no dressed like 
 auld queens, or stage-actresses " ; and he glanced his 
 eye from Lady Maclaughlan to his elegant daughter- 
 in-law, who just then entered, hanging, according to 
 custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid ; Mrs 
 Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner-bell put 
 a stop to the dispute. 
 
 " Come, my leddy, we'll see how the dinner's 
 dressed," said the laird, as he seized Lady Maclaughlan 
 by the tip of the finger, and, holding it up aloft, they 
 marched into the dining-room. 
 
 " Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas," said the
 
 MARRIAGE. 55 
 
 little baronet, with much difficulty hobbling towards 
 her, and attempting to take her hand — ** Come, Harry, 
 love ; here Cupid," cried she ; and, without noticing 
 the enraged Sir Sampson, she passed on humming a 
 tune, and leaning upon her husband. 
 
 ** Astonishing ! perfectly astonishing ! " exclaimed 
 the baronet ; " how a young woman of Lady Juliana's 
 rank and fashion should be guilty of such a solecism 
 in good breeding. 
 
 " She is very young," said Mrs Douglas, smiling, as 
 he limped along with her, " and you must make allow- 
 ances for her ; but, indeed, I think her beauty must 
 ever be a sufficient excuse for any little errors she may 
 commit, with a person of such taste and gallantry as Sir 
 Sampson Maclaughlan." 
 
 The little baronet smiled, pressed the hand he held ; 
 and, soothed by the well-timed compliment, he seated 
 himself next to Lady Juliana with some complacency. 
 As she insisted on having her husband on the other 
 side, Mr Douglas was condemned to take his station 
 by the hated Lady Maclaughlan, who, for the first 
 time, observing Mrs Douglas, called to her, — 
 
 " Come here, my love ; I hav'n't seen you these 
 hundred years " ; then, seizing her face between her 
 hands, she saluted her in the usual style : " There," at 
 length releasing Mrs Douglas from her gripe — " there's 
 for you ; I love you very much ; you're neither a fool 
 nor a hoyden ; you're a fine intelligent being." 
 
 Having carefully rolled up and deposited her gloves 
 in her pocket, she pulled out a pincushion, and calling 
 Miss Bella, desired her to pin her napkin over her 
 shoulder ; which done, she began to eat her soup in 
 silence. 
 
 Peace was, however, of short duration. Old Donald, 
 on removing a dish of v/hipt cream, unfortunately over- 
 turned one upon Lady Maclaughlan's pompadour satin
 
 56 MARRIAGE. 
 
 petticoat ; the only part of her dress that was unpro- 
 tected. 
 
 " Do you see what you have done, you old Donald ! " 
 cried she, seizing the culprit by the sleeve ; " why, 
 youVe got St Vitus's dance — a fit hand to carry whipt 
 cream, to be sure ! why, I could as well carry a 
 custard on the point of a bayonet — humph ! " 
 
 " Dear me, Donald, how could you be so senseless ! '* 
 cried Miss Jacky. 
 
 "Preserve me, Donald, I thought you had more 
 sense ! " squeaked Miss Nicky. 
 
 " I am sure, Donald, that was not like you ! " said 
 Miss Grizzy, as the friends all flocked around the 
 petticoat, each suggesting a different remedy. 
 
 " It's all of you, girls, that this has happened : why 
 can't you have a larger table-cloth upon your table ? — 
 and that old man has the palsy ; why don't you electrify 
 him ? " in a tone admirably calculated to have that 
 effect. 
 
 " I declare it's all very true," observed Miss Grizzy ; 
 "the table-cloth is very small, and Donald certainly 
 does shake, — that cannot be denied; " but, lowering her 
 voice, " he is so obstinate, we really don't know what 
 to do with him ; my sisters and I attempted to use the 
 flesh-brush with him." 
 
 " Oh, and an excellent thing it is ; I make Philistine 
 rub Sir Sampson every morning and night. If it was 
 not for that and his cough, nobody would know whether 
 he were dead or alive ; I don't believe he would know 
 himself — humph ! " 
 
 Sir Sampson's lemon face assumed an orange hue, as 
 he overheard this domestic detail ; but, not daring to 
 contradict the facts, he prudently turned a deaf ear to 
 them, and attempted to carry on a flirtation with Lady 
 Juliana, through the medium of Cupid, whom he had 
 coaxed upon his knee.
 
 MARRIAGE. 57 
 
 Dinner being at length ended, toasts succeeded ; and 
 each of the ladies having given her favourite laird, the 
 signal of retreat was given, and a general movement took 
 place. 
 
 Lady Juliana, throwing herself upon a sofa, with her 
 pugs, called Mrs Douglas to her : " Do sit down here, 
 and talk with me," yawned she. 
 
 Her sister-in-law, with great good humour, fetched 
 her work, and seated herself by the spoilt child. 
 
 " What strange thing is that you are making ? " asked 
 she, as Mrs Douglas pulled out her knitting. 
 
 " A child's stocking," replied her sister-in-law. 
 
 "A child's stocking! Oh, by the bye, have you a 
 great many children ? " 
 
 " I have none," answered Mrs Douglas, with a half- 
 stifled sigh. 
 
 " None at all ! " repeated Lady Juliana, with sur- 
 prise ; " then why do you make children's stockings ? " 
 
 " I make them for those whose parents cannot afford 
 to purchase them." 
 
 " La ! what poor wretches they must be that can't 
 aiFord to buy stockings," rejoined Lady Juliana with a 
 yawn ; " its monstrous good of you to make them, to 
 be sure ; but it must be a shocking bore ! and such a 
 trouble ! " and another long yawn succeeded. 
 
 " Not half such a bore to me as to sit idle," returned 
 Mrs Douglas, with a smile ; " nor nearly so much 
 trouble as you undergo with your favourites." 
 
 Lady Juliana made no reply, but, turning from her 
 sister-in-law, soon was, or affected to be, sound asleep, 
 from which she was only roused by the entrance of the 
 gentlemen. 
 
 " A rubber or a reel, my leddy ? " asked the laird, 
 going up to his daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Julia, love," said her husband, " my father asks you 
 if you choose cards or dancing."
 
 58 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " There's nobody to dance with," said she, casting a 
 languid glance around ; " I'll play at cards." 
 
 " Not whist, surely ! " said Henry. 
 
 « Whist ! oh, no." 
 
 « Weel, weel, you youngsters will get a round game ; 
 come, my Leddy Maclaughlan, Grizzy, Mrs Douglas, 
 hey for the odd trick and the honours ! " 
 
 " What would your ladyship choose to play at ? " 
 asked Miss Jacky, advancing with a pack of cards in 
 one hand, and a box of counters in the other. 
 
 " Oh, any thing ; I like loo very well, or quadrille, 
 or — I really don't care what." 
 
 The Misses, who had gathered round, and were 
 standing gaping in joyful expectation of Pope Joan, or 
 a pool at commerce, here exchanged sorrowful 
 glances. 
 
 " I am afraid the young people don't play at these 
 games," replied Miss Jacky ; " but we've counters 
 enough," shaking her little box, " for Pope Joan, and 
 we all know that." 
 
 " Pope Joan ! I never heard of such a game," replied 
 Lady Juliana. 
 
 " Oh, we can soon learn you," said Miss Nicky, 
 who, having spread the green cloth on the tea-table, 
 now advanced to join the consultation. 
 
 " I hate to be taught," said Lady Juliana with a 
 yawn ; " besides, I am sure it must be something very 
 stupid." 
 
 " Ask if she plays commerce," whispered Miss Bella 
 to Miss Baby. 
 
 The question was put, but with no better success, and 
 the young ladies' faces again bespoke their disappoint- 
 ment ; which their brother observing, he good-naturedly 
 declared his perfect knowledge of commerce ; " and I 
 must insist upon teaching you, Juliana," gently dragging 
 her to the table.
 
 MARRIAGE. 59 
 
 ** What's the pool to be ? " asked one of the young 
 ladies. 
 
 " Pm sure I don't know," said the aunts, looking to 
 each other. 
 
 " I suppose we must make it sixpence," said Miss 
 Jacky, after a whispering consultation with her sister. 
 
 " In that case we can afford nothing to the best 
 hand," observed Miss Nicky. " And we ought to 
 have seven lives and grace," added one of the nieces. 
 
 These points having been conceded, the preliminaries 
 were at length settled. The cards were slowly doled 
 out by Miss Jacky ; and Lady Juliana was carefully 
 instructed in the rules of the game, and strongly re- 
 commended always to try for a sequence, or pairs, &c. 
 ** And if you win," rejoined Miss Nicky, shaking the 
 snuffer-stand in which was deposited the sixpences, 
 " you get all this." 
 
 As may be conjectured, Lady Juliana's patience 
 could not survive more than one life : she had no 
 notion of playing for sixpences, and could not be at 
 the trouble to attend to any instructions ; she therefore 
 quickly retired in disgust, leaving the aunts and nieces 
 to struggle for the glorious prize. 
 
 " My dear child, you played that last stroke like a 
 perfect natural," cried Lady Maclaughlan to Miss 
 Grizzy, as, the rubber ended, they arose from the 
 table. 
 
 " Indeed, I declare, I dare say I did," replied her 
 friend, in a deprecating tone. 
 
 " Dare say you did ! I know you did — humph ! I 
 knew the ace lay with you ; I knew that as well as if I 
 had seen it. I suppose you have eyes — but I don't 
 know ; if you have, didn't you see Glenfern turn up 
 the king, and yet you returned his lead — returned your 
 adversary's lead in the face of his king. I've been 
 telling you these twenty years not to return your adver-
 
 6o MARRIAGE. 
 
 sary's lead ; nothing can be more despicable ; nothing 
 can be a greater proof of imbecility of mind — humph ! '* 
 Then, seating herself, she began to exercise her fan 
 with considerable activity. " This has been the most 
 disagreeable day I ever spent in this house, girls. I 
 don't know what's come over you, but you are all 
 wrong ! my petticoat's ruined ; my pocket's picked at 
 cards ; — it won't do, girls — it won't do — humph ! " 
 
 " I am sure, I can't understand it," said Miss Grizzy, 
 in a rueful accent ; " there really appears to have been 
 some fatality " 
 
 "Fatality ! — humph ! I wish you would give every 
 thing its right name. What do you mean by fatality ?" 
 
 " I declare — I am sure — I — I really don't know," 
 stammered the unfortunate Grizzy. 
 
 " Do you mean that the spilling of the custard was 
 the work of an angel ? " demanded her unrelenting 
 friend. 
 
 " Oh, certainly not." 
 
 " Or that it was an evil one tempted you to throw 
 away your ace there ? I suppose there's a fatality in 
 our going to supper just now," continued she, as 
 her deep-toned voice resounded through the passage 
 that conducted to the dining-room ; " and I suppose it 
 will be called a fatality if that old Fate," pointing to 
 Donald, " scalds me to death with that mess of porridge 
 he's going to put on the table — humph ! ** 
 
 No such fatality, however, occurred ; and the rest 
 of the evening passed off in as much harmony as could 
 be expected from the very heterogeneous parts of which 
 the society was formed.
 
 MARRIAGE. 6 1 
 
 Chapter %j^ 
 
 O thoughtless mortals, ever blind to fate, 
 Too soon dejected, and too soon elate, 
 Sudden these honours shall be snatch'd away ! 
 
 Pope. 
 
 What virgins these in speechless woe 
 That bend to earth their solemn brovy ? 
 
 Gray. 
 
 THE family group had already assembled round the 
 breakfast table, with the exception of Lady 
 Juliana, who chose to take that meal in bed : 
 but, contrary to her usual custom, no Lady Mac- 
 laughlan had yet made her appearance. All was busy 
 speculation and surmise as to the could-be cause of this 
 lapse of time on the part of that hitherto most perfect 
 of morning chronometers. Scouts had been sent ever 
 and anon to spy, to peep, to listen ; but nothing was 
 brought back but idle guesses and shallow conjectures. 
 It had, however, been clearly ascertained that Sir 
 Sampson had been heard to cough and find fault with 
 Murdoch in the dressing-room, and Lady Maclaughlan 
 to humph ! in her sternial tone, as she walked to and 
 fro in her chamber. So far all was well. But for 
 Lady Maclaughlan still to be in her chamber twenty 
 minutes after the breakfast-bell had rung — 'twas strange 
 — 'twas passing strange 1 
 
 " The scones will be like leather," said Miss Grizzy, 
 in her most doleful accent, as she wrapped another 
 napkin round them. 
 
 " The eggs will be like snow-balls," cried Miss 
 Jacky, warmly, popping them into the slop-basin. 
 
 " The tea will be like brandy," observed Miss 
 Nicky, sharply, as she poured more water to the three 
 tea spoonfuls she had infused.
 
 62 MARRIAGE. 
 
 ** I wish we saw our breakfast," said the laird, as he 
 finished the newspapers, and deposited his spectacles in 
 his pocket. 
 
 " It is rather hard to be kept starving all day for 
 
 that ," said Mr Douglas, as he swallowed a slice 
 
 of cold beef, that carried the conclusion of the sentence 
 along with it. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and the person in 
 question entered in her travelling dress, followed by 
 Sir Sampson ; Philistine bringing up the rear, with a 
 large green bag and a little band-box under his arm. 
 
 " Good morning, dear Lady Maclaughlan ! Good 
 morning, dear Sir Sampson ! We are all delighted to 
 see you — we were beginning to get a little uneasy, for 
 you are always so punctual ! — but you are in charming 
 time — neither too soon nor too late," immediately burst 
 as if from a thousand voices, while the sisters officiously 
 fluttered round their friend. 
 
 " Humph ; " quoth the lady. 
 
 ** I hope your bed was warm and comfortable ? " 
 
 *' I hope you rested well ? " 
 
 ** I hope Sir Sampson had a good night ? " immedi- 
 ately burst as from a thousand voices. 
 
 " I rested very ill ; my bed was very uncomfortable ; 
 and Sir Sampson's as yellow as a duck's foot — 
 humph ! " 
 
 Three disconsolate " Bless me's ! " here burst forth. 
 
 " Perhaps your bed was too hard ? " said Miss Grizzy. 
 
 ** Or too soft ? " suggested Miss Jacky. 
 
 " Or too hot ? " added Miss Nicky. 
 
 " It was neither too hard, nor too soft, nor too hot, 
 nor too cold," thundered the lady, as she seated herself 
 at the table ; " but it was all of them." 
 
 " I declare, that's most distressing," said Miss Grizzy, 
 in a tone of sorrowful amazement. " Was your head 
 high enough, dear Lady Maclaughlan ? "
 
 MARRIAGE. 63 
 
 « 
 
 Perhaps it was too high," said Miss Jacky. 
 " I know nothing more disagreeable than a high 
 head," remarked Miss Nicky. 
 " Except a fool's head — humph ! 
 
 " Now my weary lips I close ; 
 Leave me, leave me to repose." 
 
 And she betook herself to the business of the morn- 
 ing with the air of one who was determined to utter no 
 more till that was despatched. There was something 
 so portentous in the tone and responses of their oracle, 
 that, inquisitive as the sisters were, still they were not 
 so pertinacious in their curiosity as King Odin : for 
 once on a time, therefore, all three were silenced in a 
 breath, and a pause of mute consternation ensued. 
 
 Soon, however, the sound of a carriage broke the 
 solemn stillness, and set all ears on full stretch, when 
 presently the well-known pea-green drew up. 
 
 " Dear me ! Bless me ! Goodness me ! " shrieked 
 the three ladies at once. " Surely, Lady Maclaughlan, 
 you can't — you don't — you won't — this must be a 
 mistake ? " 
 
 *' There's no mistake in the matter, girls," replied 
 their friend, with her accustomed sang jro'id. " I'm 
 going home ; so I ordered the carriage ; that's all — 
 humph ! " 
 
 " Going home ! " faintly murmured the disconsolate 
 spinisters. 
 
 " What ! I suppose you think I ought to stay here 
 and have another petticoat spoiled ; or lose another 
 half-crown at cards ; or have the finishing stroke put to 
 Sir Sampson ; or see you all turned into Bedlamites — 
 humph ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lady Maclaughlan ! " was three times uttered 
 in reproachful accents. 
 
 " 1 don't know what else I should stay for : you are
 
 64 MARRIAGE. 
 
 not yourselves, girls ; youVe all turned topsy-turvy. 
 I've visited here these twenty years, and I never saw 
 things in the state they are now — humph ? " 
 
 " I declare it's very true," sighed Miss Grizzy ; 
 " we certainly are a little in confusion, — that can't be 
 denied." 
 
 " Denied ! why, you might as well deny that you 
 ever were born ! " 
 
 " Oh, Lady Maclaughlan ! " exclaimed Grizzy, in 
 great trepidation ; " I'm sure nobody would ever deny 
 that ! " 
 
 ** Can you deny that my petticoat has been ruined ? " 
 
 " It will dye," said Nicky. 
 
 ** So will you," thundered the lady, proceeding in 
 her interrogatories. " Can you deny that my pocket 
 has been picked of half-a-crown ? Can you deny that 
 Sir Sampson has been half poisoned ? Can you deny 
 that you have all been very disagreeable ? " 
 
 " My Lady Maclaughlan ! " gasped Sir Sampson, 
 who had hitherto been choking under the affront put 
 upon his complexion, — "I — 1 — I— am surprised — I 
 am shocked — I won't suffer this — I can't stand such " 
 
 and pushing away his tea-cup, he rose, and limped 
 
 to the window. Murdoch now entered to inform his 
 mistress that " every thing was ready." — " Steady, 
 boys, steady ! / always am ready," responded the 
 lady in a tone adapted to the song. " Now I am 
 ready — say nothing, girls — you know my rules. — Here, 
 Philistine, wrap up Sir Sampson, and put him in. — Get 
 along, my love. — Good bye, girls ; and I hope you will 
 all be restored to your right senses soon." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Maclaughlan ! " whined the weeping 
 Grizzy, as she embraced her friend, who, somewhat 
 melted at the signs of her distress, bawled out from the 
 carriage, as the door was shut, " Well, good bye, dear 
 girls, and may ye all become what ye have been ; and
 
 MARRIAGE. 65 
 
 you must some of you come to Loch Marlie soon, and 
 bring your pretty niece and your five senses along with 
 you : now no more at present from your affectionate 
 friend." 
 
 The carriage then drove off, and the three disconso- 
 late sisters returned to the parlour, to hold a cabinet 
 council as to the causes of the late disasters. 
 
 CljaiJtct: %ij^ 
 
 If there be cure or charm 
 To respite or relieve, or slack the pain 
 Of this ill mansion. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 TIME, which generally alleviates ordinary dis- 
 tresses, served only to augment the severity 
 of Lady Juliana's, as day after day rolled 
 heavily on, and found her still an inmate of Glenfern 
 Castle. Destitute of every resource in herself, she yet 
 turned with contempt from the scanty sources of occu- 
 pation or amusement that were suggested by others ; and 
 Mrs Douglas's attempts to teach her to play at chess 
 and read Shakspeare were as unsuccessful as the en- 
 deavours of the good aunts to persuade her to study 
 Fordyce's Sermons and make baby-linen. 
 
 In languid dejection, or fretful repinings, did the 
 unhappy beauty therefore consume the tedious hours, 
 while her husband sought alternately to soothe with 
 fondness he no longer felt, or flatter with hopes which 
 he knew to be groundless. To his father alone he 
 could now look for any assistance, and from him he was 
 not likely to obtain it in the form he desired ; as the 
 old gentleman repeatedly declared his utter inability to 
 advance him any ready money, or to allow him more 
 
 I. £
 
 66 MARRIAGE. 
 
 than a hundred a year, moreover to be paid quarterly ; 
 a sum which could not defray their expenses to 
 London. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs, when the laird one 
 morning entered the dining-room with a face of much 
 importance, and addressed his son with — " Wee), Harry, 
 you're a lucky man ; and it's an ill wind that blaws 
 naebody gude : here's poor Macglashan gone like snow 
 off a dike." 
 
 " Macglashan gone! " exclaimed Miss Grizzy. " Im- 
 possible, brother ; it was only yesterday I sent him a 
 large blister for his back ! " 
 
 "And I," said Miss Jacky, "talked to him for 
 upwards of two hours last night, on the impropriety 
 of his allowing his daughter to wear white gowns on 
 Sunday." 
 
 " By my troth, an' that was eneugh to kill ony man," 
 muttered the laird. 
 
 " How I am to derive any benefit from this important 
 demise is more than I can perceive," said Henry, in a 
 somewhat contemptuous tone. 
 
 " You see," replied his father, **that, by our agree- 
 ment, his farm falls vacant in consequence." 
 
 " And I hope I am to succeed to it ? " replied the 
 son, with a smile of derision. 
 
 " Exactly. By my troth, but you have a bein down- 
 set. There's three thousand and seventy-five acres of 
 as good sheep-walk as any in the whole country-side ; 
 and I shall advance you stocking and stedding, and 
 every thing complete, to your very peat-stacks. What 
 think ye of that ? " slapping his son's shoulder, and 
 rubbing his own hands with delight as he spoke. 
 
 Horror-struck at a scheme which appeared to him a 
 thousand times worse than any thing his imagination 
 had ever painted, poor Henry stood in speechless con- 
 sternation J while " charming ! excellent ! delightful ! "
 
 MARRIAGE. 6'J 
 
 was echoed by the aunts, as they crowded round, wishing 
 him joy, and applauding their brother's generosity. 
 
 " What will our sweet niece say to this, I wonder," 
 said the innocent Grizzy, who in truth wondered none. 
 " I would like to see her face when she hears it ; *' and 
 her own was puckered into various shapes of delight. 
 
 " I have no doubt but her good sense v/ill teach her 
 to appreciate properly the blessings of her lot," observed 
 the more reflecting Jacky. 
 
 " She has had her own good luck," quoth the sen- 
 tentious Nicky, "to find such a down-set all cut and 
 dry." 
 
 At that instant the door opened, and the favoured 
 individual in question entered. In vain Douglas strove 
 to impose silence on his father and aunts. The latter 
 sat, bursting with impatience to break out into exclama- 
 tion ; while the former, advancing to his fair daughter- 
 in-law, saluted her as " Lady Clachandow ! " Then 
 the torrent burst forth ; and, stupefied with surprise, 
 Lady Juliana suffered herself to be kissed and hugged 
 by the whole host of aunts and nieces ; while the very 
 walls seemed to reverberate the shouts ; and the pugs 
 and mackaw, who never failed to take part in every 
 commotion, began to bark and scream in chorus. 
 
 The old gentleman, clapping his hands to his ears, 
 rushed out of the room. His son, execrating his aunts, 
 and every thing around him, kicked Cupid, and gave 
 the mackaw a box on the ear, as he also quitted the 
 apartment, with more appearance of anger than he had 
 ever yet betrayed. 
 
 The tumult at length began to subside. The mac- 
 kaw's screams gave place to a low quivering croak ; 
 and the insulted pug's yells yielded to a gentle whine. 
 The aunts' obstreperous joy began to be chastened with 
 fear for the consequences that might follow an abrupt 
 disclosure ; and, while Lady Juliana condoled with her
 
 68 MARRIAGE. 
 
 favourites, it was concerted between the prudent aunts 
 that the joyful news should be broke to their niece in 
 the most cautious manner possible. For that purpose, 
 Misses Grizzy and Jacky seated themselves on each 
 side of her ; and, after duly preparing their voices by 
 sundry small hems, Miss Grizzy thus began : — 
 
 " I'm sure — I declare — I dare say, my dear Lady 
 Juliana, you must think we are all distracted." 
 
 Her auditor made no attempt to contradict the sup- 
 position. 
 
 " We certainly ought, to be sure, to have been more 
 cautious ; but the joy — though, indeed, it seems cruel 
 to say so, — and I am sure you will sympathise, my dear 
 niece, in the cause, when you hear that it is occa- 
 sioned by poor Macglashan's death, which, I'm sure, 
 was quite unexpected. Indeed, I declare I can't con- 
 ceive how it came about ; for Lady Maclaughlan, who 
 is an excellent judge of these things, thought he was 
 really a remarkable stout-looking man for his time of 
 life ; and indeed, except occasional colds, which you 
 know we are all subject to, I really never knew him 
 complain. At the same time there can be no 
 doubt " 
 
 " I don't think, sister, you are taking the right 
 method of communicating the intelligence to our niece," 
 said Miss Jacky. 
 
 " You cannot communicate any thing that would give 
 me the least pleasure, unless you could tell me that I was 
 going to leave this place," cried Lady Juliana, in a voice 
 of deep despondency. 
 
 " Indeed ! if it can afford your ladyship so much 
 pleasure to be at liberty to quit the hospitable mansion 
 of your amiable husband's respectable father," said Miss 
 Jacky, with an inflamed visage and outspread hands, 
 " you are at perfect liberty to depart when you think 
 proper. The generosity, I may say the munificence,
 
 MARRIAGE. 69 
 
 of my excellent brother, has now put it in your power 
 to do as you please, and to form your own plans." 
 
 " Oh, delightful ! " exclaimed Lady Juliana, start- 
 ing up ; " now I shall be quite happy. Where's 
 Harry ? Does he know ? — is he gone to order the 
 carriage ? — can we get away to-day ? " And she was 
 flying out of the room, when Miss Jacky caught her by 
 one hand, while Miss Grizzy secured the other. 
 
 " Oh, pray don't detain me ! I must find Harry ; 
 and I have all my things to put up," struggling to re- 
 lease herself from the gripe of the sisters ; when the 
 door opened, and Harry entered, eager, yet dreading, 
 to know the effects of the eclaircissement. His surprise 
 was extreme at beholding his wife, with her eyes spark- 
 ling, her cheeks glowing, and her whole countenance 
 expressing extreme pleasure. Darting from her keepers, 
 she bounded towards him with the wildest ejaculations 
 of delight ; while he stood alternately gazing at her and 
 his aunts, seeking, by his eyes, the explanation he feared 
 to demand. 
 
 " My dearest Juliana, what is the meaning of all 
 this ? " he at length articulated. 
 
 " Oh, you cunning thing ! So you think I don't 
 know that your father has given you a great — great 
 quantity of money, and that we may go away whenever 
 we please, and do just as we like, and live in London, 
 and — and — Oh, delightful ! " And she bounded and 
 skipped before the eyes of the petrified spinsters. 
 
 " What does all this mean ? " asked Henry, address- 
 ing his aunts, who, for the first time in their lives, 
 were struck dumb by astonishment. But Miss Jacky, 
 at length recollecting herself, turned to Lady Juliana, 
 who was still testifying her delight by a variety of 
 childish but graceful movements, and thus addressed 
 her: — 
 
 " Permit me to put a few questions to your ladyship,
 
 70 MARRIAGE. 
 
 in presence of those who were witnesses of what has 
 ah'eady passed." 
 
 " Oh, I can't endure to be asked questions ; besides, 
 I have no time to answer them." 
 
 " Your ladyship must excuse me ; but I can't permit 
 you to leave this room under the influence of an error. 
 Have the goodness to answer me the following ques- 
 tions, and you will then be at liberty to depart : — Did 
 I inform your ladyship that my brother had given my 
 nephew a great quantity of money ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes — a great, great deal — I don't know how 
 much, though " 
 
 " Did I ? " returned her interrogator. 
 
 " Come, come, have done with all this nonsense ! " 
 exclaimed Henry passionately. " Do you imagine 
 I will allow Lady Juliana to stand here all day, to 
 answer all the absurd questions that come into the 
 heads of three old women ? You stupefy and bewilder 
 her with your eternal tattling and round-about har- 
 angues." And he paced the room in a paroxysm of 
 rage, whilst his wife suspended her dancing, and stood 
 in breathless amazement. 
 
 ** I declare — I'm sure — it's a thousand pities that 
 there should have been any mistake made, and I can't 
 conceive how it has happened," whined poor Miss 
 Grizzy. 
 
 " The only remedy is to explain the matter quickly," 
 observed Miss Nicky ; " better late than never." 
 
 " I have done," said Miss Jacky, seating herself 
 with much dignity. 
 
 " The short and the long of it is this," said Miss 
 Nicky : " my brother has not made Henry a present 
 of money. I assure you, money is not so rife ; but he 
 has done what is much better for you both, — he has 
 made over to him that fine thriving farm of poor 
 Macglashan's."
 
 MARRIAGE. 71 
 
 " No money ! " repeated Lady Juliana, In a dis- 
 consolate tone : then quickly brightening up, " It would 
 have been better, to be sure, to have had the money 
 diiectly ; but you know we can easily sell the estate. 
 How long will it take ? — a week ? " 
 
 " Sell Clachandown ! " exclaimed the three horror- 
 struck daughters of the house of Douglas. " Sell 
 Clachandown! Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
 
 " What else could we do with it ? " inquired her 
 ladyship. 
 
 " Live at it, to be sure," cried all three. 
 
 " Live at it !" repeated she, with a shriek of horror 
 that vied with that of the spinsters — " Live at it ! Live 
 on a thriving farm ! Live all my life in such a place as 
 this ! Oh ! the very thought is enough to kill me ! " 
 
 " There is no occasion to think or say any more 
 about it," interrupted Henry, in a calmer tone ; and, 
 glancing round on his aunts, " I therefore desire no 
 more may be said on the subject." 
 
 *' And is this really all ? And have you got no 
 money ? And are we not going away ? " gasped the 
 disappointed Lady Juliana, as she gave way to a violent 
 burst of tears, that terminated in a fit of hysterics ; at 
 sight of which, the good spinsters entirely forgot 
 their wrath ; and, while one burnt feathers under her 
 nose, and another held her hands, a third drenched her 
 in floods of Lady Maclaughlan's hysteric water. After 
 going through the regular routine, the lady's paroxysm 
 subsided ; and, being carried to bed, she soon sobbed 
 herself into a feverish slumber ; in which state the 
 harassed husband left her, to attend a summons from 
 his father.
 
 72 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Chapter %iij^ 
 
 Haply this life is best, 
 Sweetest to you, well corresponding 
 With your stiff age ; but unto us it is 
 A cell of ignorance, a prison for a debtor. Cymbeline. 
 
 HE found the old gentleman in no very com- 
 plaisant humour, from the disturbances that had 
 taken place, but the chief cause of which he 
 was still in ignorance of. He therefore accosted his son 
 with — 
 
 "What was the meaning o' a' that skirling and 
 squeeling I heard a while ago ? By my troth, 
 there's no bearing this din ! Thae beasts o' your wife's 
 are enough to drive a man out of his senses. But she 
 maun gie up thae maggots when she becomes a farmer's 
 wife. She maun get stirks and stots to make pets 
 o', if she maun hae four-footed favourites ; but, to 
 my mind, it would set her better to be carrying a 
 wise-like wean in her arms, than traiUng aboot wi' 
 senseless dougs an' paurits." 
 
 Henry coloured, bit his lips, but made no reply to 
 this elegant address of his father's ; who continued, " I 
 sent for you, sir, to have some conversation about this 
 farm of Macglashan's ; so sit down there, till I show 
 you the plans." 
 
 Hardly conscious of what he was doing, poor Henry 
 gazed in silent confusion, as his father pointed out the 
 various properties of this his future possession. Wholly 
 occupied in debating within himself how he was to de- 
 cline the offer, without a downright quarrel, he heard, 
 without understanding a word, all the old gentleman's 
 plans and proposals for building dikes, draining moss, 
 &c. ; and, perfectly unconscious of what he was doing, 
 yielded a ready assent to all the improvements that were 
 suggested.
 
 MARRIAGE. 73 
 
 " Then as for the house and offices — let me see," 
 continued the laird, as he rolled up the plans of the 
 farm, and pulled forth that of the dwelling-house, from 
 a bundle of papers : " Ay, here it is. By my troth, 
 ye'll be weel lodged here. The house is in a manner 
 quite new, for it has never had a brush upon it yet. 
 And there's a byre — fient a bit, if 1 would mean the 
 best man i' the country to sleep there himsel." 
 
 A pause followed, during which Glenfern was busily 
 employed in poring over his parchment ; then taking off 
 his spectacles, and surveying his son, " And now, sir, 
 that you've heard a' the outs and ins of the business, 
 what think you your farm should bring you at the year's 
 end?" 
 
 "I — I — I'm sure — I — I don't know," stam- 
 mered poor Henry, awakening from his reverie. 
 
 " Come, come, gie a guess." 
 
 ** I really — I cannot — I haven't the least idea." 
 
 " I desire, sir, ye'll say something directly, that I 
 may judge whether or no ye have common sense," cried 
 the old gentleman angrily. 
 
 " I should suppose — I imagine — I don't suppose it 
 will exceed seven or eight hundred a year," said his son, 
 in the greatest trepidation at this trial of his intellect. 
 
 " Seven or eight hunder a year ! " cried the incensed 
 laird, starting up and pushing his papers from him ; " by 
 my troth, I believe ye're a born idiot ! Seven or eight 
 hunder a year ! " repeated he, at least a dozen times, as 
 he whisked up and down the little apartment with ex- 
 traordinary velocity, while poor Henry affected to be 
 busily employed in gathering up the parchments with 
 which the floor was strewed. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, sir," continued he, stopping ; 
 " you're no fit to manage a farm ; you're as ignorant as 
 yon cow, an' as senseless as its calf. Wi' gude manage- 
 ment, Clachandow should produce you twa hunder and
 
 74 MARRIAGE. 
 
 odd pounds yearly, wi' a free house, and plenty of peats, 
 mutton, and patatees into the bargain ; but, in your 
 guiding, I doubt if it will yield the half of what it 
 should do. However, tak it or want it, mind me, sir, 
 that it's a' ye hae to trust to in my lifetime ; so ye may 
 mak the maist o't." 
 
 Various and painful were the emotions that struggled 
 in Henry's breast at this declaration. Shame, regret, 
 indignation, all burned within him ; but the fear he en- 
 tertained of his father, and the consciousness of his 
 absolute dependence, chained his tongue, while the bitter 
 emotions that agitated him painted themselves legibly in 
 his countenance. His father observed his agitation ; 
 and, mistaking the cause, felt somewhat softened at what 
 he conceived his son's shame and penitence for his folly : 
 he therefore extended his hand towards him, saying, 
 " Weel, weel, nae mair aboot it ; Clachandow's yours, 
 as soon as I can put you in possession : in the mean 
 time, stay still here, pnd welcome." 
 
 « I — am much obliged to you for the offer, sir ; 1 
 — feel very grateful for your kindness," at length 
 articulated his son ; " but — I — am, as you observe, 
 so perfectly ignorant of country matters, that I — I — 
 in short, I am afraid I should make a bad hand of the 
 business." 
 
 " Nae doot, nae doot ye would, if ye was left to your 
 ain discretion ; but ye'll get mair sense, and I shall put 
 ye upon a method, and provide ye wi' a grieve ; an' if 
 you are active, and your wife managing, there's nae fear 
 o' you." 
 
 " But Lady Juliana, sir, has never been accus- 
 tomed' — 
 
 " Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts ; she 
 cou'dna be in a better school." 
 
 " But her education, sir, has been so different from 
 what would be required in that station," resumed her
 
 MARRIAGE. 75 
 
 husband, choking with vexation at the Idea of his beau- 
 teous high-born bride being doomed to the drudgery of 
 household cares. 
 
 " Edication ! what has her edication been, to mak 
 her different frae other women ? If a woman can nurse 
 her bairns, mak their claes, and manage her house, 
 what mair need she do ? If she can play a tune on the 
 spinnet, and dance a reel, and play a rubber at whist — 
 no doubt these are accomplishments, but they're soon 
 learnt. Edication ! pooh ! — I'll be bound Leddy Jully 
 Anie will mak as gude a figure by and bye as the best 
 edicated woman in the country." 
 
 " But she dislikes the country, and " 
 
 " She'll soon come to like it. Wait a wee till she 
 has a wheen bairns, an' a house o' her ain, an' I'll be 
 bound she'll be as happy as the day's lang." 
 
 " But the climate does not agree with her," con- 
 tinued the tender husband, almost driven to extremities 
 by the persevering simplicity of his father. 
 
 " Stay a wee till she gets to Clachandow ! There's 
 no a finer, freer-aired situation in a' Scotland : the 
 air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine and bracing ; and 
 you have a braw peat moss at your back to keep you 
 
 warm." 
 
 Finding it in vain to attempt insinuating his objec- 
 tions to a pastoral life, poor Henry was at length re- 
 duced to the necessity of coming to the point with the 
 old gentleman, and telling him plainly, that it was not 
 at all suited to his inclinations, or Lady Juliana's rank 
 and beauty. 
 
 Vain would be the attempt to paint the fiery wrath 
 and indignation of the ancient Highlander, as the naked 
 truth stood revealed before him : — that his son de- 
 spised the occupation of his fathers, even the feeding of 
 sheep, and the breeding of black cattle ; and that his 
 high-born spouse was above fulfilling those duties which
 
 76 MARRIAGE. 
 
 he had ever considered the chief end for which woman 
 was created. He swore, stamped, screamed, and even 
 skipped with rage, and, in short, went through all 
 the evolutions, as usually performed by testy old gentle- 
 men on first discovering that they have disobedient 
 sons and undutiful daughters. Henry, who, though 
 uncommonly good tempered, inherited a portion of his 
 father's warmth, became at length irritated at the in- 
 vectives that were so liberally bestowed on him, and 
 replied in language less respectful than the old laird was 
 accustomed to hear ; and the altercation became so 
 violent, that they parted in mutual anger ; Henry re- 
 turning to his wife's apartment in a state of the greatest 
 disquietude he had ever known. To her childish 
 questions and tiresome complaints he no longer vouch- 
 safed to reply, but paced the chamber with a disordered 
 mien, in sullen silence ; till at length, distracted by her 
 reproaches, and disgusted with her selfishness, he rushed 
 from the apartment, and quitted the house. 
 
 Cl)aptcr %i^^ 
 
 Never talk to me ; I tviil weep. 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 TWICE had the dinner-bell been loudly sounded 
 by old Donald, and the family of Glenfern 
 were all assembled, yet their fashionable guests 
 had not appeared. Impatient of delay, Miss Jacky 
 hastened to ascertain the cause. Presently she re- 
 turned in the utmost perturbation, and announced, that 
 Lady Juliana was in bed in a high fever, and Henry 
 nowhere to be found. Thereupon the whole eight 
 rushed upstairs to ascertain the fact, leaving the old 
 gentleman much discomposed at this unseasonable delay.
 
 MARRIAGE. 77 
 
 Some time elapsed ere they again returned, which 
 they did with lengthened faces, and in extreme per- 
 turbation. They had found their noble niece, accord- 
 ing to Miss Jacky's report, in bed — according to Miss 
 Grizzy's opinion, in a brain fever ; as she no sooner 
 perceived them enter, than she covered her head with 
 the bed-clothes, and continued screaming for them to 
 be gone, till they had actually quitted the apartment. 
 
 " And what proves, beyond a doubt, that our sweet 
 niece is not herself," continued poor Miss Grizzy, in a 
 lamentable tone, " is, that we appeared to her in every 
 form but our own ! She sometimes took us for cats ; 
 then thought we were ghosts haunting her ; and, in 
 short, it is impossible to tell all the things she called 
 us ; and she screams so for Harry to come and take her 
 away, that I am sure — I declare — I don't know what's 
 come over her ! " 
 
 Mrs Douglas could scarcely suppress a smile at the 
 simplicity of the good spinsters. Her husband and she 
 had gone out, immediately after breakfast, to pay a visit 
 a few miles off, and did not return till near the dinner 
 hour. They were therefore ignorant of all that had 
 been acted during their absence ; but, as she suspected 
 something was amiss, she requested the rest of the com- 
 pany would proceed to dinner, and leave her to ascertain 
 the nature of Lady Juliana's disorder. 
 
 " Don't come near me ! " shrieked her ladyship, on 
 hearing the door open : " send Henry to take me away 
 — I don't want any body but Henry ! " — and a torrent 
 of tears, sobs, and exclamations followed. 
 
 " My dear Lady Juliana," said Mrs Douglas, softly 
 approaching the bed, "compose yourself; and if my 
 presence is disagreeable to you, I will immediately 
 withdraw." 
 
 " Oh, is it you ? " cried her sister-in-law, uncover- 
 ing her face at the sound of her voice ; " I thought it
 
 78 MARRIAGE. 
 
 had been those frightful old women come to torment 
 me ; and I shall die — I know I shall — if ever I look 
 at them again. But I don't dislike you ; so you may 
 stay if you choose, — though I don't want any body but 
 Harry, to come and take me away." 
 
 A fresh fit of sobbing here impeded her utterance ; 
 and Mrs Douglas, compassionating her distress, while 
 she despised her folly, seated herself by the bedside, 
 and, taking her hand, in the sweetest tone of sympathy 
 attempted to soothe her into composure. But it was 
 long ere the words of wisdom and kindness could win 
 their way into ears closed against all but her own pas- 
 sionate exclamations and incoherent expressions of grief, 
 anger, disappointment, and injury. From these, any 
 one ignorant of the real state of the case might reason- 
 ably have inferred that she was an unhappy lady who 
 had been basely trepanned from her beloved home, and 
 taken captive to a barbarous country, where she was 
 undergoing every species of cruelty and oppression her 
 inhuman persecutors could invent or inflict. Having at 
 length exhausted herself in the detail of her wrongs and 
 sufferings, Mrs Douglas spoke a few words of consola- 
 tion, which were received with tolerable composure. 
 She then proceeded, in her own mild accents, to use 
 such reasonable arguments as she thought adapted even 
 to the weak capacity she was endeavouring to enlighten. 
 
 " The only way in which you can be less miserable, 
 is to support your present situation with patience, which 
 you may do by looking forward to brighter prospects. 
 It is possible that your stay here may be short ; and it 
 is certain that it is in your own power to render your 
 life more agreeable, by endeavouring to accommodate 
 yourself to the peculiarities of your husband's family. 
 No doubt, they are often tiresome and ridiculous ; but 
 they are always kind and well-meaning." 
 
 " You may say what you please, but 1 think them all
 
 MARRIAGE. 79 
 
 odious creatures ; and I won't live here with patience ; 
 and I shan't be agreeable to them ; and all the talking 
 in the world won't make me less miserable. If you 
 were me, you would be just the same ; but you have 
 never been in London — that's the reason." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied her sister-in-law, " I spent 
 many years of my life there." 
 
 " You lived in London ! " repeated Lady Juliana, 
 in astonishment. " And how then can you contrive to 
 exist here ? " 
 
 " I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely 
 contented with existence," said Mrs Douglas, with a 
 smile. Then assuming a more serious air, " I possess 
 health, peace of mind, and the affections of a worthy 
 husband ; and I should be very undeserving of these 
 blessings, were I to give way to useless regrets, or 
 indulge in impious repinings, because my happiness 
 might once have been more perfect, and still admits of 
 improvement." 
 
 " I don't understand you," said Lady Juliana, 
 with a peevish yawn. " Who did you live with in 
 London?" 
 
 " With my aunt. Lady Audley." 
 
 " With Lady Audley ! " repeated her sister-in-law, 
 in accents of astonishment. " Why, I have heard of 
 her ; she lived quite in the world, and gave balls and 
 assemblies ; so that's the reason you are not so dis- 
 agreeable as the rest of them. Why did you not remain 
 with her, or marry an Englishman ? — but I suppose, 
 like me, you didn't know what Scotland was ! " 
 
 Happy to have excited an interest, even through the 
 medium of childish curiosity, in the bosom of her 
 fashionable relative, Mrs Douglas briefly related such 
 circumstances of her past life as she judged proper to 
 communicate ; but as she sought rather to amuse than 
 instruct by her simple narrative, we shall allow her to
 
 8o MARRIAGE. 
 
 pursue her charitable intentions, while we do more 
 justice to her character by introducing her regularly to 
 the acquaintance of our readers. 
 
 HISTORY OF MRS DOUGLAS. 
 
 " The selfish heart deserves the pang it feels ; 
 More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts, 
 And conscious virtue mitigates the pang." Young. 
 
 Mrs Douglas was, on the maternal side, related to 
 an English family. Her mother had died in giving 
 birth to her ; and her father, shortly after, falling in 
 the service of his country, she had been consigned in 
 infancy to the care of her aunt. Lady Audley had 
 taken charge of her, on condition that she should never 
 be claimed by her Scottish relations, for whom that 
 lady entertained as much aversion as contempt. A 
 latent feeling of affection for her departed sister, and a 
 large portion of family pride, had prompted her wish of 
 becoming the protectress of her orphan niece ; and, 
 possessed of a high sense of rectitude and honour, she 
 fulfilled the duty, thus voluntarily imposed, in a manner 
 that secured the unshaken gratitude of the virtuous 
 Alicia. 
 
 Lady Audley was a character more esteemed and 
 feared than loved, even by those with whom she was 
 most intimate. Firm, upright, and rigid, she exacted 
 from others those inflexible virtues which in herself she 
 found no obstacle to performing. Neglecting the softer 
 attractions which shed their benign influence over the 
 commerce of social life, she was content to enjoy the 
 extorted esteem of her associates ; for friends she had 
 none. She sought in the world for objects to fill up 
 the void which her heart could not supply. She loved 
 eclat, and had succeeded in creating herself an existence 
 of importance in the circles of high life, which she
 
 MARRIAGE. 8 1 
 
 considered more as due to her consequence than essen- 
 tial to her enjoyment. She had early in life been left 
 a widow, with the sole tutelage and management of an 
 only son ; whose large estate she regulated with the 
 most admirable prudence and judgment. 
 
 Alicia Malcolm was put under the care of her aunt 
 at two years of age. A governess had been procured 
 for her, whose character was such as not to impair the 
 promising dispositions of her pupil. Alicia was gifted 
 by nature with a warm affectionate heart, and a calm 
 imagination attempered its influence. Her governess, a 
 woman of a strong understanding and enlarged mind, 
 early instilled into her a deep and strong sense of 
 religion ; and to it she owed the support which had 
 safely guided her through the most trying vicissitudes. 
 
 When at the age of seventeen, Alicia Malcolm was 
 produced in the world. She was a rational, cheerful, 
 and sweet-tempered girl, with a fine-formed person, and 
 a countenance in which was so clearly painted the sun- 
 shine of her breast, that it attracted the h'lenveillance 
 even of those who had not taste or judgment to define 
 the charm. Her open natural manner, blending the 
 frankness of the Scotch with the polished reserve of the 
 English woman, her total exemption from vanity, were 
 calculated alike to please others, and maintain her own 
 cheerfulness undimmed by a single cloud. 
 
 Lady Audley felt for her niece a sentiment which 
 she mistook for aflPection ; her self-approbation was 
 gratified at the contemplation of a being who owed 
 every advantage to her, and whom she had rescued 
 from the coarseness and vulgarity which she deemed 
 inseparable from the manners of every Scotch woman. 
 
 If Lady Audley really loved any human being, it 
 was her son. In him were centred her dearest in- 
 terests ; on his aggrandisement and future importance 
 hung her most sanguine hopes. She had acted con- 
 
 I. F
 
 82 MARRIAGE. 
 
 trary to the advice of her male relations, and followed 
 her own judgment, by giving her son a private educa- 
 tion. He was brought up under her own eye, by a 
 tutor of deep erudition, but who was totally unfitted 
 for forming the mind and compensating for those ad- 
 vantages which may be derived from a public education. 
 The circumstances of his education, therefore, com- 
 bined rather to stifle the exposure than to destroy the 
 existence of some very dangerous qualities, that seemed 
 inherent in Sir Edmund's nature. He was ardent, 
 impetuous, and passionate, though these propensities 
 were cloaked by a reserve, partly natural, and partly 
 arising from the repelling manners of his mother and 
 tutor. 
 
 His was not the effervescence of character which 
 bursts forth on every trivial occasion ; but when any 
 powerful cause awakened the slumbering inmates of his 
 breast, they blazed with an uncontrolled fury, that 
 defied all opposition, and overleaped all bounds of reason 
 and decorum. 
 
 Experience often shows us, that minds formed of 
 the most opposite attributes more forcibly attract each 
 other than those which appear cast in the same mould. 
 The source of this fascination is difficult to trace : it 
 possesses not reason for its basis, yet it is perhaps the 
 more tyrannical in its influence from that very cause. 
 The weakness of our nature occasionally makes us feel 
 a potent charm in " errors of a noble mind." 
 
 Sir Edmund Audley and Alicia Malcolm proved 
 examples of this observation. The affection of child- 
 hood had so gradually ripened into a warmer sentiment, 
 that neither were conscious of the nature of that senti- 
 ment till after it had attained strength to cast a material 
 influence on their after-lives. The familiarity of near 
 relatives, associating constantly together, produced a 
 warm sentiment of affection, cemented by similarity of
 
 MARRIAGE. 83 
 
 pursuits, and enlivened by diversity of character ; while 
 the perfect tranquillity of their lives afforded no event 
 that could withdraw the veil of ignorance from their 
 eyes. ' 
 
 Could a woman of Lady Audley's discernment, it 
 may be asked, place two young persons in such a situa- 
 tion, and doubt the consequences ? Those who are no 
 longer young are liable to forget that love is a plant of 
 early growth, and that the individuals that they have 
 but a short time before beheld placing their supreme 
 felicity on a rattle and a go-cart, can so soon be actuated 
 by the strongest passions of the human breast. 
 
 Sir Edmund completed his nineteenth year, and 
 Alicia entered her eighteenth, when this happy state of 
 unconscious security was destroyed by a circumstance 
 which rent the veil from her eyes, and disclosed his 
 sentiments in all their energy and warmth. This cir- 
 cumstance was no other than a proposal of marriage to 
 Alicia, from a gentleman of large fortune and brilliant 
 connexions, who resided in their neighbourhood. His 
 character was as little calculated as his appearance to 
 engage the affections of a young woman of delicacy and 
 good sense. But he was a man of consequence ; heir 
 to an earldom ; member for the county : and Lady 
 Audley, rejoicing at what she termed Alicia's good 
 fortune, determined that she should become his wife. 
 
 With mild firmness she rejected the honour intended 
 her ; but it was with difficulty that Lady Audley's 
 mind could adopt or understand the idea of an opposi- 
 tion to her wishes. She could not seriously embrace 
 the conviction, that Alicia was determined to disobey 
 her ; and, in order to bring her to a right understanding, 
 she underwent a system of persecution that tended 
 naturally to increase the antipathy her suitor had inspired. 
 Lady Audley, with the undiscriminating zeal of pre- 
 judiced and overbearing persons, strove to recommend
 
 84 MARRIAGE. 
 
 him to her niece by all those attributes which were of 
 value in her own eyes ; making allowance for a certain 
 degree of indecision in her niece, but never admitting a 
 doubt that in due time her will should be obeyed, as it 
 had always hitherto been. 
 
 At this juncture, Sir Edmund returned from a short 
 excursion, and was struck by the altered looks and 
 pensive manners of his once cheerful cousin. About a 
 week after his arrival, he found Alicia one morning in 
 tears, after a long conversation with Lady Audley. Sir 
 Edmund tenderly soothed her, and entreated to be 
 made acquainted with the cause of her distress. She 
 was so habituated to impart every thought to her cousin, 
 the intimacy and sympathy of their souls was so entire, 
 that she would not have concealed the late occurrence 
 from him, had she not been withheld by the natural 
 timidity and delicacy a young woman feels in making 
 her own conquests the subject of conversation. But 
 now, so pathetically and irresistibly persuaded by Sir 
 Edmund, and sensible that every distress of hers wounded 
 his heart, Alicia candidly related to him the pursuit of 
 her disagreeable suitor, and the importunities of Lady 
 Audley in his favour. Every word she had spoken had 
 more and more dispelled the mist that had so long hung 
 over Sir Edmund's inclinations. At the first mention 
 of a suitor, he had felt that to be hers was a happiness 
 that comprised all others ; and that the idea of losing 
 her made the whole of existence appear a frightful blank. 
 These feelings were no sooner known to himself, than 
 spontaneously poured into her delighted ears ; while she 
 felt that every sentiment met a kindred one in her breast. 
 Alicia sought not a moment to disguise those feelings 
 which she now, for the first time, became aware of ; they 
 were known to the object of her innocent affection as 
 soon as to herself, and both were convinced, that, though 
 not conscious before of the nature of their sentiments,
 
 MARRIAGE. 85 
 
 friendship had long been mistaken for love in their 
 hearts. 
 
 But this state of blissful serenity did not last long. On 
 the evening of the following day, Lady Audley sent for 
 her to her dressing-room. On entering, Alicia was 
 panic-struck at her aunt's pale countenance, fiery eyes, 
 and frame convulsed with passion. With difficulty. Lady 
 Audley, struggling for calmness, demanded an instant and 
 decided reply to the proposals of Mr Compton, the gentle- 
 man who had solicited her hand. Alicia entreated her 
 aunt to waive the subject, as she found it impossible ever 
 to consent to such an union. 
 
 Scarcely was her answer uttered, when Lady Audley's 
 anger burst forth uncontrollably, and Alicia gathered 
 from it that her rage had its source in a declaration her 
 son had made to her of his affection for his cousin, and 
 his resolution of marrying her as soon as he was of age : 
 which open avowal of his sentiments had followed Lady 
 Audley's injunctions to him to forward the suit of Mr 
 Compton. 
 
 That her son, for whom she had in view one of the 
 first matches in the kingdom, should dare to choose for 
 himself, and, above all, to choose one whom she con- 
 sidered as much his inferior in birth as she was in fortune, 
 was a circumstance quite insupportable to her feelings. 
 
 Of the existence of love. Lady Audley had little 
 conception ; and she attributed her son's conduct to 
 wilful disobedience and obstinacy. In proportion as 
 she had hitherto found him complying and gentle, her 
 wrath had kindled at his present firmness and inflexi- 
 bility. So bitter v/ere her reflections on his conduct, so 
 severe her animadversions on the being he loved, that Sir 
 Edmund, fired with resentment, expressed his resolution 
 of acting according to the dictates of his own will ; and 
 expressed his contempt for her authority, in terms the 
 most unequivocal. Lady Audley, ignorant of the arts
 
 86 MARRIAGE. 
 
 of persuasion, by every word she uttered more and more 
 widened the breach her imperiousness had occasioned, 
 until Sir Edmund, feeling himself no longer master of 
 his temper, announced his intention of leaving the house, 
 to allow his mother time to reconcile herself to the 
 inevitable misfortune of beholding him the husband of 
 Alicia Malcolm. 
 
 He instantly ordered his horses and departed, leaving 
 the following letter for his cousin : — 
 
 " I have been compelled, by motives of prudence, of 
 which you are the sole object, to depart without seeing 
 you. My absence became necessary from the unexpected 
 conduct of Lady Audley, which has led me so near to 
 forgetting that she was my mother, that I dared not 
 remain, and subject myself to excesses of temper which 
 I might afterwards repent. Two years must elapse 
 before I can become legally my own master ; and, should 
 Lady Audley so far depart from the dictates of cool judg- 
 ment as still to oppose what she knows to be inevitable, 
 I fear that we cannot meet till then. My heart is well 
 known to you ; therefore I need not enlarge on the pain 
 I feel at this unlooked-for separation. At the same 
 time, I am cheered with the prospect of the unspeakable 
 happiness that awaits me — the possession of your hand ; 
 and the confidence T feel in your constancy is in pro- 
 portion to the certainty I experience in my own : I can- 
 not therefore fear that any of the means which may be 
 put in practice to disunite us will have more effect on 
 you than on me. 
 
 ** Looking forward to the moment that shall make 
 you mine for ever, I remain, with steady confidence 
 and unspeakable affection, your 
 
 " Edmund Audley.'* 
 
 With a trembling frame, Alicia handed the note to 
 Lady Audley, and begged leave to retire for a short
 
 MARRIAGE. 87 
 
 time ; expressing her willingness to reply at another 
 moment to any question her aunt might choose to 
 put to her with regard to her engagement with Sir 
 Edmund. 
 
 In the solitude of her own chamber, Alicia gave way 
 to those feelings of wretchedness which she had with 
 difficulty stifled in the presence of Lady Audley, and 
 bitterly wept over the extinction of her bright and 
 newly-formed visions of felicity. To yield to un- 
 merited ill-usage, or to crouch beneath imperious and 
 self-arrogated power, was not in the nature of Alicia ; 
 and, had Lady Audley been a stranger to her, the path 
 of duty would have been less intricate. However much 
 her own pride might have been wounded by entering 
 into a family which considered her as an intruding 
 beggar, never would she have consented to sacrifice the 
 virtuous inclinations of the man she loved to the will 
 of an arrogant and imperious mother. But, alas ! the 
 case was far different. The recent ill-treatment she 
 had experienced from Lady Audley could not efface 
 from her noble mind the recollection of benefits con- 
 ferred from the earliest period of her life, and of un- 
 varying attention to her welfare. To her aunt she 
 owed all but existence : she had wholly supported 
 her — had bestowed on her the most liberal education ; 
 and from Lady Audley sprung every comfort and 
 pleasure she had hitherto enjoyed. 
 
 Had she been brought up by her paternal relations, 
 she would in all probability never have beheld her 
 cousin ; and the mother and son might have lived in 
 uninterrupted concord. Could she be the person to 
 inflict on Lady Audley the severest disappointment 
 she could experience ? The thought was too dread- 
 ful to bear ; and, knowing that procrastination could 
 but increase her misery, no sooner had she felt con- 
 vinced of the true nature of her duty, than she made a
 
 88 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Steady resolution to perform and to adhere to it. Lady 
 Audley had 'voived, that^ ivh'ile she had life, she nvould 
 never give her consent to her son's marriage ; and Alicia 
 was too well acquainted with her disposition to have 
 the faintest expectation she would relent. 
 
 But to remain any longer under her protection was 
 impossible ; and she resolved to anticipate any proposal 
 of that sort from her protectress. 
 
 When Lady A udley's passion had somewhat cooled, 
 she again sent for Alicia. She began by repeating her 
 invincible enmity to the marriage, in a manner the most 
 impressive, and rendered still more decisive by the cool 
 collectedness of her manner. She then desired to hear 
 what Alicia had to say in exculpation of her conduct. 
 
 The profound sorrow which filled the heart of Alicia 
 left no room for timidity or indecision. She answered 
 without hesitation or embarrassment, and asserted her 
 innocence of all deceit, in such a manner as to leave no 
 doubt at least of honourable proceeding. In a few 
 words she expressed her gratitude for the benefits her 
 aunt had through life conferred upon her ; and, while 
 she openly professed to think herself, in the present 
 instance, deeply wronged, she declared her determina- 
 tion of never uniting herself to her cousin without the 
 consent of his mother. 
 
 She then proceeded to ask, where her aunt deemed 
 it most advisable for her to reside in future. 
 
 Lady Audley, convinced that moderate measures 
 would be most likely to insure a continuance of Alicia's 
 obedience, expressed herself grieved at the necessity 
 of parting with her, and pleased that she should have 
 the good sense to perceive the propriety of such a 
 separation. 
 
 Sir Duncan Malcolm, the grandfather of Alicia, had, 
 in the few communications that had passed between 
 Lady Audley and him, always expressed a wish to
 
 MARRIAGE. 89 
 
 see his granddaughter before he died. Her ladyship's 
 antipathy to Scotland, however, was such, that she 
 would have deemed it absolute contamination for her 
 niece to have entered the country ; and she had, there- 
 fore, always eluded the request. 
 
 It was now, of all plans, the most eligible ; and she 
 graciously offered to convey her niece as far as Edin- 
 burgh. The journey was immediately settled ; and, 
 before Alicia left her aunt's presence, the promise was 
 exacted with unfeeling tenacity, and given with melan- 
 choly firmness, never to unite herself to Sir Edmund 
 unsanctioned by his mother. 
 
 Alas ! how imperfect is human wisdom ! Even in 
 seeking to do right, how many are the errors we com- 
 mit ! Alicia judged wrong in thus sacrificing the 
 happiness of Sir Edmund to the pride and injustice of 
 his mother ; — but her error was that of a noble, self- 
 denying spirit, entitled to respect, even though it cannot 
 claim approbation. The honourable open conduct of 
 her niece had so far gained upon Lady Audley, that 
 she did not object to her writing to Sir Edmund, which 
 she did as follows : — 
 
 "Dear Sir Edmund, 
 
 "A painful line of conduct is pointed out to me by 
 duty ; yet, of all the regrets I feel, not one is so 
 poignant as the consciousness of that which you will 
 feel at learning that I have for ever resigned the claims 
 you so lately gave me to your heart and hand. It was 
 not weakness — it could not be inconstancy — that pro- 
 duced the painful sacrifice of a distinction still more 
 gratifying to my heart than flattering to my pride. 
 
 " Need I remind you, that to your mother I owe 
 every benefit in life ? nothing can release me from the 
 tribute of gratitude, which would be ill repaid by 
 braving her authority and despising her will. Should
 
 9© MARRIAGE. 
 
 I give her reason to regret the hour she received me 
 under her roof, to repent of every benefit she has 
 hitherto bestowed on me, — should I draw down a 
 mother's displeasure, what reasonable hopes could we 
 entertain of solid peace through life ? I am not in a 
 situation which entitles me to question the justice of 
 Lady Audley's will ; and that will has pronounced 
 that I shall never be Sir Edmund's wife. 
 
 " Your first impulse may perhaps be, to accuse me of 
 coldness and ingratitude, in quitting the place and 
 country you inhabit, and resigning you back to yourself, 
 without personally taking leave of you ; but I trust that 
 you will, on reflection, absolve me from the charge. 
 
 ** Could I have had any grounds to suppose that a 
 personal interview would be productive of comfort to 
 you, I would have joyfully supported the sufferings it 
 would have inflicted on myself. But, question your 
 own heart as to the use you would have made of such 
 a meeting ; bear in mind, that Lady Audley has my 
 solemn promise never to be yours without her consent — 
 a promise not lightly given — then imagine what must 
 have been an interview between us under such circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " In proof of an affection which I can have no 
 reason to doubt, I conjure you to listen to the last 
 request I shall ever make to my dear cousin. Give 
 me the heart-felt satisfaction to know that my departure 
 has put an end to those disagreements between mother 
 and son of which I have been the innocent cause. 
 
 " Farewell, dear Edmund ! May every happiness 
 attend your future life ! A. M." 
 
 To say that no tears were shed during the composition 
 of this letter, would be to overstrain fortitude beyond 
 natural bounds. With difficulty Alicia checked the 
 effusions of her pen : she wished to have said much
 
 MARRIAGE. 9 1 
 
 more, and to have soothed the agony of renunciation 
 by painting with warmth her tenderness and her regret; 
 but reason urged, that, in exciting his feelings and dis- 
 playing her own, she would defeat the chief purpose of 
 her letter : she hastily closed and directed it, with a 
 feeling almost akin to despair. 
 
 The necessaay arrangements for the journey having 
 been hastily made, the ladies set out two days after Sir 
 Edmund had so hastily quitted them. The uncom- 
 plaining Alicia buried her woes in her own bosom ; 
 and neither murmurs on the one hand, nor reproaches 
 on the other, were heard. 
 
 At the end of four days, the travellers entered Scot- 
 land ; and, when they stopped for the night, Alicia, 
 fatigued and dispirited, retired immediately to her 
 apartment. 
 
 She had been there but a few minutes, when the 
 chambermaid knocked at the door, and informed her 
 that she was wanted below. 
 
 Supposing that Lady Audley had sent for her, she 
 followed the girl without observing that she was con- 
 ducted in an opposite direction ; when, upon entering 
 an apartment, what was her astonishment at finding 
 herself, not in the presence of Lady Audley, but in the 
 arms of Sir Edmund ! In the utmost agitation, she 
 sought to disengage herself from his almost frantic em- 
 brace ; while he poured forth a torrent of rapturous 
 exclamations, and swore that no human power should 
 ever divide them again. 
 
 " I have followed your steps, dearest Alicia, from 
 the moment I received your letter. We are now in 
 Scotland — in this blessed land of liberty. Every thing 
 is arranged ; the clergyman is now in waiting ; and, in 
 five minutes, you shall be my own beyond the power of 
 fate to sever us." 
 
 Too much agitated to reply, Alicia wept in silence ;
 
 92 MARRIAGE. 
 
 and, in the delight of once more beholding him she had 
 thought never more to behold, forgot, for a moment, 
 the duty she had imposed upon herself. But the native 
 energy of her character returned. She raised her head, 
 and attempted to withdraw from the encircling arms of 
 her cousin. 
 
 " Never until you have vowed to be mine ! The 
 clergyman — the carriage — every thing is in readi- 
 
 ness "- 
 
 At this juncture, the door opened, and, pale with 
 rage, her eyes flashing fire, Lady Audley stood before 
 them. A dreadful scene now ensued. Sir Edmund 
 disdained to enter into any justification of his conduct, 
 or even to reply to the invectives of his mother, but 
 lavished the most tender assiduities on Alicia ; who, 
 overcome more by the conflicts of her own heart than 
 with alarm at Lady Audley's violence, sat the pale and 
 silent image of consternation. 
 
 Baffled by her son's indignant disregard, Lady Aud- 
 ley turned all her fury on her niece ; and, in the most 
 opprobrious terms that rage could invent, upbraided her 
 with deceit and treachery — accusing her of making her 
 pretended submission instrumental to the more speedy 
 accomplishment of her marriage. Too much incensed 
 to reply. Sir Edmund seized his cousin's hand, and was 
 leading her from the room. 
 
 " Go, then — go, marry her ; but first hear me swear, 
 solemnly swear ! " — and she raised her hands and eyes 
 to heaven — " that my malediction shall be your portion ! 
 Speak but the word, and no power shall make me 
 withhold it ! " 
 
 " Dear Edmund ! '* exclaimed Alicia, distractedly, 
 " never ought I to have allowed time for the terrifying 
 words that have fallen from Lady Audley's lips ; never 
 for me shall your mother's malediction fall on you. 
 Farewell for ever ! " and, with the strength of despera-
 
 MARRIAGE. 93 
 
 tion, she rushed past him, and quitted the room. Sir 
 Edmund madly followed, but in vain. Alicia's feelings 
 were too highly wrought at that moment to be touched 
 even by the man she loved ; and, without an additional 
 pang, she saw him throw himself into the carriage which 
 he had destined for so different a purpose, and quit for 
 ever the woman he adored. 
 
 It may easily be conceived of how painful a nature 
 must have been the future intercourse betwixt Lady 
 Audley and her niece. The former seemed to regard 
 her victim with that haughty distance which the un- 
 relenting oppressor never fails to entertain towards the 
 object of his tyranny ; while even the gentle Alicia, on 
 her part, shrank, with ill-concealed abhorrence, from the 
 presence of that being whose stern decree had blasted 
 all the fairest blossoms of her happiness. 
 
 Alicia was received with affection by her grandfather ; 
 and she laboured to drive away the heavy despondency 
 which pressed on her spirits, by studying his taste and 
 humours, and striving to contribute to his comfort and 
 amusement. 
 
 Sir Duncan had chosen the time of Alicia's arrival 
 to transact some business ; and, instead of returning im- 
 mediately to the Highlands, he determined to remain 
 some weeks in Edinburgh for her amusement. 
 
 But, little attractive as dissipation had ever been, it 
 was now absolutely repugnant to Alicia. She loathed 
 the idea of mixing in scenes of amusement with a heart 
 incapable of joy, a spirit indifferent to every object that 
 surrounded her ; and in solitude alone she expected 
 gradually to regain her peace of mind. 
 
 In the amusements of the gay season of Edinburgh, 
 Alicia expected to find all the vanity, emptiness, and 
 frivolity of London dissipation, without its varied bril- 
 liancy and elegant luxury ; yet, so much was it the 
 habit of her mind to look to the fairest side of thincs.
 
 94 MARRIAGE. 
 
 and to extract some advantage from every situation in 
 which she was placed, that, pensive and thoughtful as 
 was her disposition, the discriminating only perceived 
 her deep dejection, while all admired her benevolence 
 of manner and unaffected desire to please. 
 
 By degrees, Alicia found that, in some points, she 
 had been inaccurate in her idea of the style of living of 
 those who form the best society of Edinburgh. The 
 circle is so confined, that its members are almost uni- 
 versally known to each other ; and those various 
 gradations of gentility, from the cit's snug party to the 
 duchess's most crowded assembly, all totally distinct 
 and separate, which are to be met with in London, 
 have no prototype in Edinburgh. There, the ranks 
 and fortunes being more on an equality, no one is able 
 greatly to exceed his neighbour in luxury and extra- 
 vagance. Great magnificence, and the consequent 
 gratification produced by the envy of others, being out 
 of the question, the object for which a reunion of in- 
 dividuals was originally invented becomes less of a 
 secondary consideration. Private parties for the actual 
 purpose of society and conversation are frequent, and 
 answer the destined end ; and in the societies of 
 professed amusement are to be met the learned, the 
 studious, and the rational, — not presented as shows to 
 the company by the host and hostess, but professedly 
 seeking their own gratification. 
 
 Still the lack of beauty, fashion, and elegance dis- 
 appoint the stranger accustomed to their brilliant com- 
 bination in a London world. But Alicia had long 
 since sickened in the metropolis at the frivolity of 
 beauty, the heartlessness of fashion, and the insipidity 
 of elegance ; and it was a relief to her to turn to the 
 variety of character she found beneath the cloak of 
 simple, eccentric, and sometimes coarse manners. 
 
 We are never long so totally abstracted by our own
 
 MARRIAGE. 95 
 
 feelings, as to be unconscious of the attempts of others 
 to please us. 
 
 Amongst the many who expressed good-will towards 
 Alicia, there were a few whose kindness and real 
 affection failed not to meet with a return from her ; 
 and others, whose rich and varied powers of mind, for 
 the first time, afforded her a true specimen of the ex- 
 alting enjoyment produced by a communion of intellect. 
 She felt the powers of her understanding enlarge in 
 proportion ; and, with this mental activity, she sought 
 to solace the languor of her heart, and save it from the 
 listlessness of despair. 
 
 Alicia had been about six weeks in Edinburgh, 
 when she received a letter from Lady Audley. No 
 allusions were made to the past ; she wrote upon 
 general topics, in the cold manner that might be used 
 to a common acquaintance ; and slightly named her son 
 as having set out upon a tour to the Continent. 
 
 Alicia's heart was heavy, as she read the heartless 
 letter of the woman whose cruelty had not been able 
 to eradicate wholly from her breast the strong durable 
 affection of early habit. 
 
 Sir Duncan and Alicia spent two months in Edin- 
 burgh, at the end of which time they went to his 
 
 country seat in shire. The adjacent country was 
 
 picturesque ; and Sir Duncan's residence, though bear- 
 ing marks of the absence of taste and comfort in its 
 arrangements, possessed much natural beauty. 
 
 Two years of tranquil seclusion had passed over her 
 head, when her dormant feelings were all aroused by a 
 letter from Sir Edmund. It informed her that he was 
 now of age ; that his affection remained unalterable ; 
 that he was newly arrived from abroad ; and concluded 
 by declaring his intention of presenting himself at once 
 to Sir Duncan, and soliciting his permission to claim 
 her hand.
 
 96 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Alicia read the letter with grateful affection and 
 poignant regret. Again she shed the bitter tears of 
 disappointment, at the hard task of refusing for a second 
 time so noble and affectionate a heart. But conscience 
 whispered, that to hold a passive line of conduct would 
 be, in some measure, to deceive Lady Audley's ex- 
 pectations ; and she felt, with exquisite anguish, that 
 she had no means to put a final stop to Sir Edmund's 
 pursuits, and to her own trials, but by bestowing her 
 hand on another. The first dawning of this idea was 
 accompanied by the most violent burst of anguish ; but, 
 far from driving away the painful subject, she strove to 
 render it less appalling by dwelling upon it, and labour- 
 ing to reconcile herself to what seemed her only plan 
 of conduct. She acknowledged to herself, that, to 
 remain still single, a prey to Sir Edmund's importuni- 
 ties, and the continual temptations of her own heart, 
 was, for the sake of present indulgence, submitting to a 
 fiery ordeal, from which she could not escape unblame- 
 able without the most repeated and agonising conflicts. 
 
 Three months still remained for her of peace and liberty, 
 after which Sir Duncan would go to Edinburgh. There 
 she would be sure of meeting with the loved companion 
 of her youthful days ; and the lurking weakness of her 
 own breast would then be seconded by the passionate 
 eloquence of the being she most loved and admired 
 upon earth. 
 
 She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments ; 
 declaring that she could never feel herself absolved from 
 the promise she had given Lady Audley, but by that 
 lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a pursuit 
 which would be productive only of lasting pain to 
 both. 
 
 Her arguments, her representations, all failed in 
 their effect on Sir Edmund's impetuous character. His 
 answer was short and decided ; the purport of it, that
 
 MARRIAGE. 97 
 
 he should see her in Edinburgh the moment she arrived 
 there. 
 
 " My fate then is fixed," thought Alicia, as she read 
 this letter ; " I must finish the sacrifice." 
 
 The more severe had been the struggle between love 
 and victorious duty, the more firmly was she determined 
 to maintain this dear-bought victory. 
 
 Alicia's resolution of marrying was now decided, and 
 the opportunity was not wanting. She had become 
 acquainted, during the preceding winter, in Edinburgh, 
 with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr Douglas of 
 Glenfern. He had then paid her the most marked 
 attention ; and, since her return to the country, had 
 been a frequent visitor at Sir Duncan's. At length he 
 avowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir Duncan 
 with pleasure, by Alicia with dread and submission. 
 Yet she felt less repugnance towards him than to any 
 other of her suitors. He was pleasing in his person, 
 quiet and simple in his manners, and his character stood 
 high for integrity, good temper, and plain sense. The 
 sequel requires little farther detail. Alicia Malcolm 
 became the wife of Archibald Douglas. 
 
 An eternal constancy is a thing so rare to be met 
 with, that persons who desire that sort of reputation 
 strive to obtain it by nourishing the ideas that recall the 
 passion, even though guilt and sorrow should go hand 
 in hand with it. But Alicia, far from piquing herself 
 in the love-lorn pensiveness she might have assumed 
 had she yielded to the impulse of her feelings, diligently 
 strove, not only to make up her mind to the lot which 
 had devolved to her, but to bring it to such a frame of 
 cheerfulness as should enable her to contribute to her 
 husband's happiness. 
 
 When the soul is no longer buffeted by the storms 
 of hope or fear, when all is fixed unchangeably for life, 
 sorrow for the past will never long prey on a pious and 
 
 I. G
 
 98 MARRIAGE. 
 
 well regulated mind. If Alicia lost the buoyant spirit 
 of youth, the bright and quick play of fancy, yet a placid 
 contentment crowned her days ; and, at the end of two 
 years, she would have been astonished had any one 
 marked her as an object of compassion. 
 
 She scarcely ever heard from Lady Audley ; and, 
 in the few letters her aunt had favoured her with, she gave 
 favourable, though vague, accounts of her son. Alicia 
 did not court a more unreserved communication, and 
 had long since taught herself to hope that he was now 
 happy. Soon after their marriage, Major Douglas 
 quitted the army, upon succeeding to a small estate on 
 the banks of Lochmarlie, by the death of an uncle ; 
 and there, in the calm seclusion of domestic life, Mrs 
 Douglas found that peace which might have been 
 denied her amid gayer scenes. 
 
 Cl)apter %b^ 
 
 And joyous was the scene in early summer. 
 
 Madoc. 
 
 ON Henry's return from his solitary ramble, Mrs 
 Douglas learnt from him the cause of the mis- 
 understanding that had taken place ; and judg- 
 ing that, in the present state of affairs, a temporary 
 separation might be of use to both parties, as they were 
 now about to return home, she proposed to her husband 
 to invite his brother and Lady Juliana to follow and 
 spend a few weeks with them at Lochmarlie Cottage. 
 
 The invitation was eagerly accepted j for though Lady 
 Juliana did not anticipate any positive pleasure from the 
 change, still she thought that every place must be more 
 agreeable than her present abode, especially as she stipu- 
 lated for the utter exclusion of the aunts from the party.
 
 MARRIAGE. 99 
 
 To atone for this mortification, Miss Bella was invited 
 to fill the vacant seat in the carriage ; and, accordingly, 
 with a cargo of strong shoes, great-coats, and a large 
 work-bag well stuffed with white-seam, she took her 
 place at the appointed hour. 
 
 The day they had chosen for their expedition was one 
 that " sent a summer feeling to the heart." 
 
 The air was soft and genial ; not a cloud stained the 
 bright azure of the heavens ; and the sun shone out in 
 all his splendour, shedding life and beauty even over the 
 desolate heath-clad hills of Glenfern. But, after they 
 had journeyed a few miles, suddenly emerging from the 
 valley, a scene of matchless beauty burst at once upon 
 the eye. Before them lay the dark-blue waters of 
 Lochmarlie, reflecting, as in a mirror, every surround- 
 ing object, and bearing on its placid transparent bosom 
 a fleet of herring-boats, the drapery of whose black 
 suspended nets contrasted with picturesque effect the 
 white sails of the larger vessels, which were vainly spread 
 to catch a breeze. All around, rocks, meadows, woods, 
 and hills mingled in wild and lovely irregularity. 
 
 On a projecting point of land stood a little fishing 
 village ; its white cottages reflected in the glassy waters 
 that almost surrounded it. On the opposite side of the 
 lake, or rather estuary, embosomed in a wood, rose the 
 lofty turrets of Lochmarlie Castle ; while here and there, 
 perched on some mountain's brow, were to be seen the 
 shepherd's lonely hut, and the heath-covered summer 
 shealing. 
 
 Not a breath was stirring, not a sound was heard, save 
 the rushing of a waterfall, the tinkling of some silver 
 rivulet, or the calm rippHng of the tranquil lake ; now 
 and then, at intervals, the fisherman's Gaelic ditty, 
 chanted, as he lay stretched on the sand in some sunny 
 nook ; or the shrill distant sound of childish glee. How 
 delicious to the feeling heart to behold so fair a scene of
 
 lOO MARRIAGE. 
 
 unsophisticated nature, and to listen to her voice alone, 
 breathing the accents of innocence and joy ! 
 
 But none of the party who now gazed on it had 
 minds capable of being touched with the emotions it 
 was calculated to inspire. 
 
 Henry, indeed, was rapturous in his expressions of 
 admiration ; but he concluded his panegyrics by wonder- 
 ing his brother did not keep a cutter, and resolving to 
 pass a night on board one of the herring-boats, that he 
 might eat the fish in perfection. 
 
 Lady Juliana thought it might be very pretty, if, 
 instead of those frightful rocks and shabby cottages, 
 there could be villas, and gardens, and lawns, and con- 
 servatories, and summer-houses, and statues. 
 
 Miss Bella observed, if it was hers, she would cut 
 down the woods, and level the hills, and have races. 
 
 The road wound along the sides of the lake, some- 
 times overhung with banks of natural wood, which, 
 though scarcely budding, grew so thick as to exclude 
 the prospect ; in other places surmounted by large masses 
 of rock, festooned with ivy, and embroidered by mosses 
 of a thousand hues that glittered under the little moun- 
 tain streamlets. Two miles further on stood the simple 
 mansion of Mr Douglas. It was situated in a wild 
 sequestered nook, formed by a little bay at the further 
 end of the lake. On three sides it was surrounded by 
 wooded hills, that offered a complete shelter from every 
 nipping blast. To the south, the lawn, sprinkled with 
 trees and shrubs, sloped gradually down to the water. 
 
 At the door, they were met by Mrs Douglas, who 
 welcomed them with the most affectionate cordiality, 
 and conducted them into the house through a little 
 circular hall, filled with flowering shrubs and foreign 
 
 plants. 
 
 " How delightful ! " exclaimed Lady Juliana, as she 
 stopped to inhale the rich fragrance. " Cape jasmine,
 
 MARRIAGE. lOl 
 
 and geraniums ! I do delight in them," — twisting off 
 the fairest blossoms of each in token of her affection : 
 "and I quite dote upon heliotrope," — gathering a hand- 
 ful of its flowers as she spoke. " What quantities I 
 used to have from papa's conservatories ! " 
 
 Mrs Douglas made no reply ; but conducted her to 
 the drawing-room, where her chagrin was dispelled by 
 the appearance of comfort and even elegance that it 
 bore. " Now, this is really what I like,'* cried she, 
 throwing herself on one of the couches ; " a large fire, 
 open windows, quantities of roses, comfortable ottomans, 
 and pictures; only what a pity you haven't' a larger 
 
 mirror." 
 
 Mrs Douglas now rang for refreshments, and apolo- 
 gised for the absence of her husband, who, she said, was 
 so much interested in his ploughing, that he seldom 
 made his appearance till sent for. 
 
 Henry then proposed that they should all go out and 
 surprise his brother ; and though walking in the country 
 formed no part of Lady Juhana's amusements, yet, as 
 Mrs Douglas assured her the walks were perfectly dry, 
 and her husband was so pressing, she consented. The 
 way lay through a shrubbery, by the side of a brawling 
 brook, whose banks retained all the wildness of un- 
 adorned nature. Moss, and ivy, and fern clothed the 
 ground ; and, under the banks, the young primroses and 
 violets began to raise their heads ; while the red wintry 
 berry still hung thick on the hollies. 
 
 " This is really very pleasant," said Henry, stopping 
 to contemplate a view of the lake through the branches 
 of a weeping birch ; " the sound of the stream, and the 
 singing of the birds, and all those wild flowers, make it 
 appear as if it was summer in this spot : and only look, 
 Julia, how pretty that wherry looks lying at anchor." 
 Then whispering to her, " What would you think of 
 such a desert as this, with the man of your heart ? "
 
 102 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Lady Juliana made no reply, but by complaining of 
 the heat of the sun, the hardness of the gravel, and the 
 damp from the water. 
 
 Henry, who now began to look upon the condition 
 of a Highland farmer with more complacency than 
 formerly, was confirmed in his favourable sentiments at 
 sight of his brother, following the primitive occupation 
 of the plough, his fine face glowing with health, and 
 lighted up with good humour and happiness. He hastily 
 advanced towards the party, and, shaking his brother 
 and sister-in-law most warmly by the hand, expressed, 
 with all the warmth of a kind heart, the pleasure he had 
 in receiving them at his house : then observing Lady 
 Juliana's languid air, and imputing to fatigue of body 
 what, in fact, was the consequence of mental vacuity, he 
 proposed returning home by a shorter road than that by 
 which they had come. Henry was again in raptures at 
 the new beauties this walk presented, and at the high 
 order and neatness in which the grounds were kept. 
 
 "This must be a very expensive place of yours, 
 though," said he, addressing his sister-in-law ; " there 
 is so much garden and shrubbery, and such a number of 
 rustic bridges, bowers, and so forth : it must require 
 half a dozen men to keep it in any order." 
 
 " Such an establishment would very ill accord with 
 our moderate means," replied she : " we do not pretend 
 to one regular gardener ; and had our little embellish- 
 ments been productive of much expense, or tended solely 
 to my gratification, I should never have suggested them. 
 When we first took possession of this spot, it was a per- 
 fect wilderness, with a dirty farm-house on it : nothing 
 but mud about the doors, nothing but wood and briers 
 and brambles beyond it ; and the village presented a still 
 more melancholy scene of rank luxuriance, in its swarms 
 of dirty idle girls and mischievous boys. I have gener- 
 ally found, that wherever an evil exists, the remedy is
 
 MARRIAGE. IO3 
 
 not far off; and in this case it was strikingly obvious. 
 It was only engaging these ill-directed children, by 
 trifling rewards, to apply their lively energies in improv- 
 ing instead of destroying the works of nature, as had 
 formerly been their zealous practice. In a short time, 
 the change on the moral as well as the vegetable part of 
 creation became very perceptible : the children grew 
 industrious and peaceable ; and, instead of destroying 
 trees, robbing nests, and worrying cats, the bigger boys, 
 under Douglas's direction, constructed those wooden 
 bridges and seats, or cut out and gravelled the little 
 winding paths that we had previously marked out. The 
 task of keeping every thing in order is now easy, as you 
 may believe when I tell you the whole of our pleasure- 
 grounds, as you are pleased to term them, receive no 
 other attention than what is bestowed by children under 
 twelve years of age. And now having, I hope, acquitted 
 myself of the charge of extravagance, I ought to beg 
 Lady Juliana's pardon for this long, and, I fear, tiresome 
 detail." 
 
 Having now reached the house, Mrs Douglas con- 
 ducted her guest to the apartment prepared for her ; 
 while the brothers pursued their walk. 
 
 As long as novelty retained its power, and the com- 
 parison between Glenfern and Lochmarlie was fresh in 
 remembrance. Lady Juliana, charmed with every thing, 
 was in high good-humour. But as the horrors of the 
 one were forgotten, and the comforts of the other 
 became familiar, the demon of ennui again took posses- 
 sion of her vacant mind ; and she relapsed into all her 
 capricious humours and childish impertinences. The 
 harpsichord, which, on her first arrival, she had pro- 
 nounced to be excellent, was now declared quite shock- 
 ing ; so much out of tune, that there was no possibility 
 of playing upon it. The small collection of well-chosen 
 novels she soon exhausted, and then they became " the
 
 104 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Stupidest books she had ever read ; " the smell of the 
 heliotrope now gave her the head-ache j the sight of 
 the lake made her sea-sick. 
 
 Mrs Douglas heard all these civilities in silence ; and 
 much more " in sorrow than in anger." In the way- 
 ward inclinations, variable temper, and wretched inanity 
 of this poor victim of indulgence, she beheld the sad 
 fruits of a fashionable education ; and thought, with 
 humility, that, under similar circumstances, such might 
 have been her own character. 
 
 " Oh, what an awful responsibility do those parents 
 incur," she would mentally exclaim, " who thus neglect 
 or corrupt the noble deposit of an immortal soul ! 
 And who, alas ! can tell where the mischief may end ? 
 This unfortunate will herself become a mother ; yet, 
 wholly ignorant of the duties, incapable of the self- 
 denial, of that sacred office, she will bring into the 
 world creatures to whom she can only transmit her 
 errors and her weaknesses ! " 
 
 These reflections at times deeply affected the gener- 
 ous heart and truly Christian spirit of Mrs Douglas ; 
 and she sought, by every means in her power, to 
 restrain those faults which she knew it would be vain to 
 attempt eradicating. 
 
 To diversify the routine of days which grew more 
 and more tedious to Lady Juliana, the weather being 
 remarkably fine, many little excursions were made to 
 the nearest country seats ; which, though they did not 
 afford her any actual pleasure, answered the purpose of 
 consuming a considerable portion of her time. 
 
 Several weeks passed away, during which little in- 
 clination was shown on the part of the guests to quit 
 their present residence, when Mr and Mrs Douglas 
 were summoned to attend the sick-bed of Sir Duncan 
 Malcolm ; and though they pressed their guests to 
 remain during their absence, yet Henry felt that it
 
 MARRIAGE. 105 
 
 would be highly offensive to his father were they to do 
 so, and therefore resolved immediately to return to 
 Glenfern. 
 
 Cl)aptcr jcbj* 
 
 They steeked doors, they steeked yetts, 
 
 Close to the cheek and chin ; 
 They steeked them a' but a little wicket, 
 
 And Lammikin crap in. 
 
 Now quhere's the lady of this castle ? 
 
 * * * * 
 
 « • * « 
 
 • • • « 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 HE party were received with the loudest acclama- 
 tions of joy by the good old ladies ; and even 
 the laird seemed to have forgotten that his son 
 refused to breed black cattle, and that his daughter-in- 
 law was above the management of her household. 
 
 The usual salutations were scarcely over, when Miss 
 Grizzy, flying to her little writing-box, pulled out a 
 letter, and, with an air of importance, having enjoined 
 silence, she read as follows : — 
 
 ' Lochmarlie Castle, March 27. 17 — 
 
 " Dear Child, 
 " Sir Sampson's stomach has been as bad as it could 
 well be, but not so bad as your roads — he was shook 
 to a jelly. My petticoat will never do. Mrs M'Hall 
 has had a girl. I wonder what makes people have 
 girls ; they never come to good : boys may go to the 
 mischief, and be good for something — if girls go, they're 
 good for nothing I know of. I never saw such roads 
 — I suppose Glenfern means to bury you all in the 
 highway — there are holes enough to make you graves, 
 
 T
 
 Io6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 and stones big enough for coffins. Colonel G is 
 
 dead — he was near a hundred ; she is ninety ; so their 
 loves have not been nipt in the bud. She is a Portu- 
 guese — he married her in India for her money. She 
 was jealous, and fancied every woman in love wid de 
 colonel. Pretty Miss Macdonald staid two days with 
 
 them. When she was going away, Mrs G said to 
 
 her, * You will come again when I do ask you ; and 
 dat,' stamping her foot, * will be — never ! ' Poor 
 thing ! I went to visit her last week. She cried like 
 a baby — she was in weeds, and wore the colonel's long 
 queue fastened to her widow's cap, and hanging down 
 her back — a fact which can be attested by living wit- 
 nesses : it was his own hair. She said she had sent for 
 de minister to make her de Protestant, dat she might 
 go to de same place wid de dear good colonel. She is 
 an oddity ; — -beware of becoming oddities, dear girls, 
 and hanging queues to your widow's caps — if ever you 
 have any. I like you all very much, and you must all 
 come and spend Tuesday here — not all, but some of 
 you — you, dear child, and your brotlier, and a sister, 
 and your pretty niece, and handsome nephew — I love 
 handsome people. Miss M'Kraken has bounced away 
 with her father's footman — I hope he will clean his 
 knives on her. Come early, and come dressed, to 
 your loving friend, 
 
 " Isabella Maclaughlan." 
 
 The letter ended, a volley of applause ensued, which 
 at length gave place to consultation. "Of course we 
 all go — at least as many as the carriage will hold : we 
 have no engagements, and there can be no objections." 
 
 Lady JuHana had already frowned a contemptuous 
 refusal, but in due time it was changed to a sullen assent, 
 at the pressing entreaties of her husband, to whom any 
 place was now preferable to home. In truth, the men-
 
 MARRIAGE. I07 
 
 tion of a party had more weight with her than either 
 her husband's wishes or her aunt's remonstrances ; and 
 they had assured her, that she should meet with a 
 large assemblage of the very first company at Loch- 
 marlie Castle. 
 
 The day appointed for the important visit arrived ; 
 and it was arranged that two of the elder ladies, and 
 one of the young ones, should accompany Lady Juliana 
 in her barouche, which Henry was to drive. 
 
 At peep of dawn the ladies were astir, and at eight 
 o'clock breakfast was hurried over, that they might 
 begin the preparations necessary for appearing with 
 dignity at the shrine of this their patron saint. At 
 eleven they reappeared in all the majesty of sweeping 
 silk trains and well-powdered toupees. In outward 
 show, Miss Bella was not less elaborate. The united 
 strength and skill of her three aunts and four sisters 
 had evidently been exerted in forcing her hair into 
 every position but that for which nature had intended 
 it ; curls stood on end around her forehead, and tresses 
 were dragged up from the roots and formed into a club 
 on the crown : her arms had been strapped back till her 
 elbows met ; and her respiration seemed suspended by 
 means of a pink riband of no ordinary strength or 
 doubtful hue — what wine-merchants call a "full 
 body." 
 
 Three hours were passed In all the anguish of full- 
 dressed impatience, an anguish in which every female 
 breast must be ready to sympathise. But Lady Juliana 
 sympathised in no one's distresses but her own ; and 
 the difference of waiting In high dress or in deshabille 
 was a distinction to her inconceivable. But those to 
 whom to be dressed is an event, will readily enter into 
 the feelings of the ladies in question, as they sat, walked, 
 wondered, exclaimed, opened windows, wrung their 
 hands, adjusted their dress, &c. &c., during the three
 
 Io8 MARRIAGE. 
 
 tedious hours they were doomed to wait the appearance 
 of their niece. 
 
 Two o'clock came, and with it Lady Juliana, as if 
 purposely to testify her contempt, in a plain morning 
 dress and mob cap. The sisters looked blank with 
 disappointment ; for, having made themselves mistresses 
 of the contents of her ladyship's wardrobe, they had 
 settled amongst themselves that the most suitable dress 
 for the occasion would be black velvet, and according- 
 ly many hints had been given the preceding evening 
 on the virtues of black velvet gowns : they were warm, 
 and not too warm ; they were dressy, and not too dressy ; 
 Lady Maclaughlan was a great admirer of black velvet 
 gowns ; she had one herself with long sleeves, and that 
 buttoned behind ; black velvet gowns were very much 
 wore ; they knew several ladies who had them ; and 
 they were certain there would be nothing else wore 
 amongst the matrons at Lady Maclaughlan's, &c. &c. 
 
 Time was, however, too precious to be given either 
 to remonstrance or lamentation. Miss Jacky could only 
 give an angry look, and Miss Grizzy a sorrowful one, 
 as they hurried away to the carriage, uttering excla- 
 mations of despair at the lateness of the hour, and the 
 impossibility that any body could have time to dress 
 after getting to Lochmarlie Castle. 
 
 The consequence of the delay was, that it was almost 
 dark by the time they reached the place of destination. 
 The carriage drove up to the grand entrance ; but 
 neither lights nor servants greeted their arrival ; and no 
 answer was returned to the ringing of the bell. 
 
 " This is most alarming, I declare ! " cried Miss 
 Grizzy. 
 
 " It is quite incomprehensible ! " observed Miss Jacky. 
 " We had best get out, and try the back door." 
 
 The party alighted, and another attack being made 
 upon the rear, it met with better success ; for a little
 
 MARRIAGE. IO9 
 
 boy now presented himself at a narrow opening of the 
 door, and, in a strong Highland accent, demanded 
 " wha ta war seekin' ? " 
 
 " Lady Maclaughlan, to be sure, Colin," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " Weel, weel," still refusing admitance ; " but ta 
 leddie's no to be spoken wi' to-night.'' 
 
 " Not to be spoken with ! " exclaimed Miss Grizzy, 
 almost sinking to the ground with apprehension. " Good 
 gracious! — I hope! — I declare! — Sir Sampson!" 
 
 " Oo ay, hur may see Lochmarlie hursel." Then 
 opening the door, he led the way to a small sitting- 
 room, and ushered them into the presence of Sir Sampson, 
 who was reclining in an easy chair, arrayed in a 
 rohe-de-chambre and night-cap. The opening of the 
 door seemed to have broken his slumber ; for, gazing 
 around with a look of stupefaction, he demanded, in a 
 sleepy peevish tone, " who was there ? " 
 
 " Bless me. Sir Sampson ! " exclaimed both spinsters 
 at once, darting forward and seizing a hand ; " bless me, 
 don't you know us ! — and here is our niece. Lady 
 Juliana." 
 
 " My Lady Juliana Douglas ! " cried he, with a 
 shriek of horror, sinking again upon his cushions — "I am 
 
 betrayed — I Where is my Lady Maclaughlan ? — 
 
 where is Murdoch ? — where is — distraction ! — this is 
 not to be borne ! My Lady Juliana Douglas, the 
 Earl of Courtland's daughter, to be introduced to 
 Lochmarlie Castle in so vile a manner, and myself 
 surprised in so indecorous a situation ! " And, his lips 
 quivering with passion, he rang the bell. 
 
 The summons was answered by the same attendant 
 that had acted as gentleman usher. 
 
 " Where are all my people ? " demanded his incensed 
 master. 
 
 " Hurs aw awa tull ta Sandy Mor's,"
 
 no MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Where Is my lady ? '* 
 
 " Hurs i' ta teach-tap." * 
 
 " Where is Murdoch ? " 
 
 " Hurs helpin' ta leddie i' ta teach-tap." 
 
 " Oh, we'll all go up-stairs, and see what Lady 
 Maclaughlan and Murdoch are about in the laboratory," 
 said Miss Grizzy. " So, pray just go on with your nap, 
 Sir Sampson ; we shall find the way — don't stir : " 
 and, taking Lady Juliana by the hand, away tripped 
 the spinsters in search of their friend. " I cannot 
 conceive the meaning of all this," whispered Miss 
 Grizzy to her sister as they went along. " Something 
 must be wrong ; but I said nothing to dear Sir Sampson, 
 his nerves are so easily agitated. But what can be 
 the meaning of all this ? I declare it's quite a mystery ! " 
 
 After ascending several long dark stairs, and following 
 divers windings and turnings, the party at length reached 
 the door of the sanctum sanctorum ; and having gently 
 tapped, the voice of the priestess was heard, in no very 
 encouraging accents, demanding " who was there ? " 
 
 " It's only us," replied her trembling friend. 
 
 " Only us ! humph ! I wonder what fool is called 
 ' only us ! ' Open the door, Philistine, and see what 
 * only us ' wants." 
 
 The door was opened, and the party entered. The 
 day was closing in, but, by the faint twilight that 
 mingled with the gleams from a smoky smouldering 
 fire, Lady Maclaughlan was dimly discernible, as she 
 stood upon the hearth, watching the contents of an 
 enormous kettle, that emitted both steam and odour. 
 She turned round on the entrance of the party, and 
 regarded the invaders with her usual marble aspect, but 
 without moving either joint or muscle as they drew 
 near. 
 
 " I declare — I don't think you know us, Lady 
 
 * House-top.
 
 MARRIAGE. Ill 
 
 Maclaughlan," said Miss Grizzy, in a tone of affected 
 vivacity, with which she strove to conceal her agitation. 
 " Know you ! " repeated her friend — " humph ! 
 Who you are, I know very well ; but what brings you 
 here, I do not know. Do you know yourselves ? " 
 
 *' I declare — I can't conceive — " began Miss 
 Grizzy ; but her trepidation arrested her speech, and 
 her sister therefore proceeded — 
 
 " Your ladyship's declaration is no less astonishing 
 than incomprehensible. We have waited upon you by 
 your own express invitation on the day appointed by 
 yourself; and we have been received in a manner, 1 
 must say, we did not expect, considering this is the first 
 visit of our niece. Lady Juliana Douglas." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, girls," replied their friend, as 
 she still stood with her back to the fire, and her hands 
 behind her ; " I'll tell you what, you are not yourselves 
 — you are all lost — quite mad — that's all — humph ! " 
 
 " If that's the case, we cannot be fit company for 
 your ladyship," retorted Miss Jacky, warmly ; " and 
 therefore the best thing we can do is to return the way 
 we came : come. Lady Juliana — come, sister." 
 
 " I declare, Jacky, the impetuosity of your temper is 
 — I really cannot stand it" — and the gentle Grizzy 
 gave way to a flood of tears. 
 
 " You used to be rational, intelligent creatures," 
 resumed her ladyship ; " but what has come over you 
 I don't know. You come tumbling in here in the 
 middle of the night — and at the top of the house — ^no- 
 body knows how — when I never was thinking of you ; 
 and because I don't tell a parcel of lies, and pretend I 
 expected you, you are for flying off again — humph ! 
 Is this the behaviour of women in their senses ? But, 
 since you are here, you may as well sit down, and say 
 what brought you. Get down, Gil Bias — go along, 
 Tom Jones ! " addressing two huge cats, who occupied
 
 112 MARRIAGE. 
 
 a three-cornered leather chair by the fire-side, and who 
 relinquished it with much reluctance. 
 
 " How do you do, pretty creature ? " kissing Lady 
 Juliana, as she seated her in this cat's cradle. " Now, 
 girls, sit down, and tell what brought you here to- 
 night — humph ! " 
 
 " Can your ladyship ask such a question, after having 
 formally invited us ? " demanded the wrathful Jacky. 
 
 " I'll tell you what, girls ; you were just as much 
 invited by me to dine here to-day, as you were appointed 
 to sup with the Grand Seignior — humph ! " 
 
 " What day of the week does your ladyship call 
 this ? " demanded Jacky, with assumed composure. 
 
 " I call it Tuesday ; but I suppose the Glenfern 
 calendar calls it Thursday : Thursday was the day I 
 invited you to come." 
 
 " I'm sure — I'm thankful we've got to the bottom 
 of it at last," cried Miss Grizzy ; " I read it, because 
 I am sure I thought you wrote it, Tuesday." 
 
 " How could you be such a fool, my love, as to read 
 it any such thing ? Even if it had been written Tues- 
 day, you might have had the sense to know it meant 
 Thursday. When did you know me invite anybody for 
 a Tuesday ? " 
 
 " I declare it's very true ; — I certainly ought to 
 have known better. 1 am quite confounded at my own 
 stupidity ; for, as you observe, even though you had 
 said Tuesday, I might have known that you must have 
 meant Thursday — there can be no doubt about that ! " 
 
 " Well, well, no more about it : since you are here, 
 you must stay here, and you must have something to eat, 
 I suppose. Sir Sampson and I have dined two hours ago ; 
 but you shall have your dinner for all that. I must 
 shut shop for this day, it seems, and leave my resusci- 
 tating tincture all in the dead-thraw — Methusalem pills 
 quite in their infancy. But there's no help for it : since
 
 MARRIAGE. II3 
 
 you are here, you must stay here, and you must be fed 
 and lodged ; so get along, girls, get along. Here, Gil 
 Bias — come, Tom Jones." And, preceded by her 
 cats, and followed by her guests, she led the way to the 
 parlour. 
 
 Cl)apter )ct)i|* 
 
 Point de milieu : I'hymen et ses liens 
 
 Sont les plus grands ou des maux ou des biens. 
 
 U Enfant Prodlgue. 
 
 ON returning to the parlour, they found Sir Samp- 
 son had, by means of the indefatigable Murdoch, 
 been transported into a suit of regimentals, and 
 well-powdered peruke, which had in some measure re- 
 stored him to his usual complacency. Henry, who had 
 gone in quest of some person to take charge of the 
 horses, now entered ; and shortly after a tray of pro- 
 visions was brought, which the half-famished party 
 eagerly attacked, regardless of their hostess's admoni- 
 tions to eat sparingly, as nothing was so dangerous as 
 eating heartily when people were hungry. 
 
 The repast being at length concluded. Lady Mac- 
 laughlan led her guests into the saloon. They passed 
 through an antechamber, which seemed, by the faint 
 light of the lamp, to contain nothing but piles upon piles 
 of old china, and entered the room of state. 
 
 The eye at first wandered in uncertain obscurity ; and 
 the guests cautiously proceeded over a bare oaken floor, 
 whose dark polished surface seemed to emulate a mirror, 
 through an apartment of formidable extent. The walls 
 were hung with rich, but grotesque, tapestry. The 
 ceiling, by its height and massy carving, bespoke the 
 age of the apartment ; but the beauty of the design was 
 lost in the gloom. 
 
 I. a
 
 114 MARRIAGE. 
 
 A Turkey carpet was placed in the middle of the 
 floor ; and on the middle of the carpet stood the card- 
 table, at which two footmen, hastily summoned from the 
 revels at Sandy Mor's, were placing chairs and cards ; 
 seemingly eager to display themselves, as if to prove 
 that they were always at their posts. 
 
 Cards were a matter of course with Sir Sampson and 
 his lady ; but, as whist was the only game they ever 
 played, a difficulty arose as to the means of providing 
 amusement for the younger part of the company. 
 
 " The library is locked, but I have plenty of books 
 here for you, my loves," said Lady Maclaughlan ; and, 
 taking one of the candles, she made a journey to the 
 other end of the room, and entered a small turret, from 
 which her voice was heard issuing most audibly, " All 
 the books that should ever have been published are here. 
 Read these, and you need read no more : all the world's 
 in these books — humph ! Here's the * Encyclopasdia 
 Britannica,' twenty-six volumes, — * History of Scot- 
 land,' four volumes. Here's * Floyer's Medicina Gero- 
 comica, or the Galenic Art of preserving Old Men's 
 Health ; ' * Love's Art of Surveying and Measuring 
 Land ; ' * Transactions of the Highland Society ; ' 
 * Glass's Cookery ; ' * Fencing Familiarised ; ' * Ob- 
 servations on the Use of Bath Waters ; ' * Cure for 
 Soul Sores ; ' < De Blondt's Military Memoirs ; ' < Mac 
 Ghie's Book-keeping ; ' * Mead on Pestilence ; ' * As- 
 tenthology, or the Art of preserving Feeble Life ! ' " 
 
 As she enumerated the contents of her library, she 
 paused at the end of each title, in hopes of hearing the 
 book called for ; but she was allowed to proceed with- 
 out interruption to the end of her catalogue. 
 
 " Why ! what would you have, children ? " cried 
 she, in one of her sternest accents. " I don't know ! 
 Do you know yourselves ? Here are two novels, the 
 only ones I know of worth reading."
 
 MARRIAGE. I15 
 
 Henry gladly accepted the first volumes of " Gil 
 Bias " and " Don Quixote ; " and, giving the latter to 
 Lady Juliana, began the other himself. Miss Bella was 
 settled with her hands across ; and, the whist party 
 being arranged, a solemn silence ensued. 
 
 Lady Juliana turned over a few pages of her own 
 book, then begged Henry would exchange with her ; 
 but both were in so different a style from the French 
 and German school she had been accustomed to, that 
 they were soon relinquished in disappointment and 
 disgust. 
 
 On the table, which had been placed by the fire for 
 her accommodation, lay an English newspaper, and to 
 that she had recourse as a last effort at amusement. 
 But, alas ! even the dulness of Don Quixote was 
 delight, compared to the anguish with which this fatal 
 paper was fraught, in the shape of the following para- 
 graph, which presented itself to the unfortunate fair 
 one's eye : — 
 
 " Yesterday was married, by special licence, at the 
 
 house of Mrs , his Grace the Duke of L , to 
 
 the beautiful and accomplished Miss D . His 
 
 Royal Highness the Duke of was gracious enough 
 
 to act as father to the bride upon this occasion, and was 
 present in person, as were their Royal Highnesses the 
 
 Dukes of and of . The bride looked most 
 
 bewitchingly lovely, in a simple robe of the finest 
 Mechlin lace, with a superb veil of the same costly 
 material, which hung down to her feet. She wore a 
 set of pearls, estimated at thirty thousand pounds, whose 
 chaste elegance corresponded with the rest of the dress. 
 Immediately after the ceremony they partook of a 
 sumptuous collation, and the happy pair set off in a 
 chariot and four, attended by six outriders and two 
 coaches and four. 
 
 "After spending the honeymoon at his grace's unique
 
 Il6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 villa on the Thames, their graces will receive company 
 at their splendid mansion in Portman Square. The 
 wedding paraphernalia is said to have cost ten thousand 
 pounds, and her grace's jewel-box is estimated at little 
 less than half a million." 
 
 Wretched as I^ady Juliana had long felt herself to 
 be, her former state of mind was positive happiness 
 compared to what she now endured. Envy, regret, 
 self-reproach, and resentment, all struggled in the breast 
 of the self-devoted beauty, while the paper dropped 
 from her hand, and she cast a fearful glance around, as 
 if to ascertain the reality of her fate. The dreadful 
 certainty smote her with a sense of wretchedness too 
 acute to be suppressed ; and, darting a look of horror 
 at her unconscious husband, she threw herself back in 
 her chair, while the scalding tears of envy, anger, and 
 repentance fell from her eyes. 
 
 Accustomed as Henry now was to these ebullitions 
 oi feeling from his beauteous partner, he was not yet so 
 indifferent as to behold them unmoved, and he sought 
 to soothe her by the kindest expressions and most tender 
 epithets. These, indeed, had long since ceased to 
 charm away the lady's ill-humour, but they sometimes 
 succeeded in mollifying it. But now, their only effect 
 seemed to be increasing the irritation, as she turned from 
 all her husband's inquiries, and impatiently withdrew 
 her hands from his. 
 
 Astonished at a conduct so incomprehensible, Douglas 
 earnestly besought an explanation. 
 
 " There ! " cried she at length, pushing the paper 
 towards him ; " see there what I might have been but 
 for you ; and then compare it with what you have 
 made me ! " 
 
 Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly snatched 
 up the paper, and his eye instantly fell on the fatal para- 
 graph ; the poisoned dart that struck the death-blow to
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 1 7 
 
 all that now remained to him of happiness — the fond 
 idea that, even amidst childish folly and capricious 
 estrangement, still, in the main, he was beloved ! With 
 a quivering lip, and cheek blanched with mortification 
 and indignant contempt, he laid down the paper ; and, 
 without casting a look upon, or uttering a word to, his 
 once adored and adoring Juliana, quitted the apartment 
 in all that bitterness of spirit which a generous nature 
 must feel when it first discovers the fallacy of a cherished 
 affection. Henry had, indeed, ceased to regard his 
 wife with the ardour of romantic passion ; nor had the 
 solid feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place : 
 but he loved her still, because he believed himself the 
 engrossing object of her tenderness ; and, in that blest 
 delusion, he had hitherto found palliatives for her folly, 
 and consolation for all his own distresses. 
 
 To indifference he might for a time have remained 
 insensible ; because, though his feelings were strong, 
 his perceptions were not acute. But the veil of illusion 
 was now rudely withdrawn. He beheld himself detested 
 where he imagined himself adored ; and the anguish of 
 disappointed affection was heightened by the stings of 
 wounded pride and deluded self-love. 
 
 Chapter %^\x]^ 
 
 What's done, cannot be undone ; to bed, to bed, to bed I 
 
 Exit Lady Macbeth. 
 
 THE distance at which the whist party had placed 
 themselves, and the deep interest in which their 
 senses were involved, while the fate of the odd 
 trick was pending, had rendered them insensible to the 
 scene that was acting at the other extremity of the 
 apartment. The task of administering succour to the
 
 Il8 MARRIAGE. 
 
 afflicted fair one therefore devolved upon Miss Bella, 
 whose sympathetic powers never had been called into 
 action before. Slowly approaching the wretched Lady 
 Juliana as she lay back in her chair, the tears coursing 
 each other down her cheeks, she tendered her a smelling- 
 bottle, to which her own nose and the noses of her 
 sisters were wont to be applied whenever, as they 
 choicely expressed it, they wanted a " fine smell." 
 But, upon this trying occasion, she went still further ; 
 she unscrewed the stopper, unfolded a cotton handker- 
 chief, upon which she poured a few drops of lavender- 
 water, and offered 't to her ladyship, deeming that the 
 most elegant and efficient manner in which she could 
 afford relief. But the well-meant offering was silently 
 waved off; and poor Miss Bella, having done all that 
 the light of reason suggested to her, retreated to her 
 seat, wondering what it was her fine sister-in-law 
 would be at. 
 
 By the time the rubber was ended, her ladyship's 
 fears of Lady Maclaughlan had enabled her to conquer 
 her feelings so far, that they had now sunk into a state 
 of sullen dejection, which the good aunts eagerly inter- 
 preted into the fatigue of the journey ; Miss Grizzy 
 declaring, that although the drive was most delightful 
 — nobody could deny that — and they all enjoyed it 
 excessively, as indeed everybody must who had eyes 
 in their head, — yet she must own, at the same 
 time, that she really felt as if all her bones were broke. 
 
 A general rising therefore took place at an early 
 hour ; and Lady Juliana, attended by all the ladies of 
 the party, was ushered into the chamber of state, which 
 was fitted up in a style acknowledged to be truly 
 magnificent, by all who had ever enjoyed the honour 
 of being permitted to gaze on its white velvet bed- 
 curtains, surmounted by the family arms, and gracefully 
 tucked up by hands sinister-couped at the wrists, &c.
 
 MARRIAGE. II9 
 
 But, lest my fashionable readers should be of a differ- 
 ent opinion, I shall refrain from giving an inventory of 
 the various articles with which this favoured chamber 
 was furnished. Misses Grizzy and Jacky occupied the 
 green-room which had been fitted up at Sir Sampson's 
 birth ; the curtains hung at a respectful distance from 
 the ground ; the chimney-piece was far beyond the 
 reach even of the majestic Jacky's arm ; and the painted 
 tiffany toilette was covered with a shoal of little 
 tortoise-shell boxes of all shapes and sizes. A grim 
 visage, scowling from under a Highland bonnet, graced 
 by a single black feather, hung on high. Miss Grizzy 
 placed herself before it, and, holding up the candle, 
 contemplated it for about the nine hundredth time, with 
 an awe bordering almost on adoration. 
 
 " Certainly, Sir Eneas must have been a most 
 wonderful man — nobody can deny that ; and there can 
 be no question but he had the second sight to the 
 greatest degree — indeed, I never heard it disputed ; 
 many of his prophecies, indeed, seem to have been 
 quite incomprehensible ; but that is so much the more 
 extraordinary, you know — for instance, the one with 
 regard to our family," lowering her voice — " for my 
 part I declare I never could comprehend it ; and yet 
 there must be something in it, too ; but how any branch 
 from the Glenfern tree — of course, you know, that can 
 only mean the family tree — should help to prop Loch- 
 marlie's walls, is what I can't conceive. If Sir 
 Sampson had a son, to be sure, some of the girls — for 
 you know it can't be any of us ; at least I declare for 
 my own part — I'm sure even of any thing — which I 
 trust, in goodness, there is not the least chance of, 
 should ever happen to dear Lady Maclaughlan, — which, 
 of course, is a thing not to be thought about — and 
 indeed I'm quite convinced it would be very much out 
 of respect to dear Lady Maclaughlan, as well as friend-
 
 I20 MARRIAGE. 
 
 ship for us, If such a thing was ever to come into his 
 head — there can be no doubt about that." 
 
 Here the tender Grizzy got so involved in her own 
 ideas, as to the possibiUty of Lady Maclaughlan's death, 
 and the propriety of Sir Sampson's proposals, together- 
 with the fulfilling of Sir Eneas the seer's prophecy, that 
 there is no saying how far she strayed in her self-created 
 labyrinth. Such as choose to follow her may. For 
 our part, we prefer accompanying the youthful Bella to 
 her chamber, whither she was also attended by the lady 
 of the mansion. Bella's destiny for the night lay at 
 the top of one of those little straggling wooden stairs 
 common in old houses, which creaked in all directions. 
 The bed was placed in a recess dark as Erebus, and 
 betwixt the bed and the wall was a depth profound, 
 which Becky's eye dared not attempt to penetrate. 
 
 " You will find every thing right here, child," said 
 Lady Maclaughlan ; " and if any thing should be wrong, 
 you must think it right. I never suffer any thing to be 
 thought wrong here — humph ! " Bella, emboldened 
 by despair, cast a look towards the recess ; and, in a 
 faint voice, ventured to inquire, " Is there no fear that 
 Tom Jones or Gil Bias may be in that place behind the 
 bed ? " 
 
 " And if they should," answered her hostess, in her 
 most appalling tone, " what is that to you ? Are you a 
 mouse, that you are afraid they will eat you ? Yes, I 
 suppose you are. You are perhaps the princess in the 
 fairy tale, who was a woman by day, and a mouse by 
 night. I believe you are bewitched ! So I wish your 
 mouseship a good night." And she descended the 
 creaking stair, singing, — 
 
 " Mrs Mouse, are you within ? — 
 Yes, indeed, I sit and spin," See. 
 
 till even her stentorian voice was lost in distance. Poor 
 Bella's heart died with the retreating sounds, and only
 
 MARRIAGE. 121 
 
 revived to beat time with the worm in the wood. 
 Long and eerie was the night, as she gave herself up to 
 all the horrors of a superstitious mind : ghosts, grey, 
 black, and white, flitted around her couch — cats, half 
 human, held her throat — the death-watch ticked in her 
 ears. At length, the light of morning shed its brighten- 
 ing influence on the dim opaque of her understanding ; 
 and when all things stood disclosed in light, she shut her 
 eyes, and ope'd her mouth, in all the blissfulness of security. 
 
 The light of day was indeed favourable for displaying 
 to advantage the beauties of Lochmarlie Castle, which 
 owed more to nature than art. It was beautifully 
 situated on a smooth green bank, which rose somewhat 
 abruptly from the lake, and commanded a view which, 
 if not extensive, was yet full of variety and grandeur. 
 
 Its venerable turrets reared themselves above the 
 trees, which seemed coeval with them ; and the vast 
 magnificence of its wide-spreading lawns and extensive 
 forests seemed to appertain to some feudal prince's lofty 
 domain. But in vain were creation's charms spread 
 before Lady Juliana's eyes. Woods, and mountains, 
 and lakes, and rivers, were odious things ; and her heart 
 panted for dusty squares and suffocating drawing-rooms. 
 
 Something was said of departing, by the sisters, when 
 the party met at breakfast ; but this was immediately 
 negatived in the most decided manner by their hostess. 
 
 " Since you have taken your own time to come, my 
 dears, you must take mine to go. Thursday was the 
 day I invited you for, or at least wanted you for, so you 
 must stay Thursday, and if you will you may go away 
 on Friday, and my blessing go with you — humph ! " 
 
 The sisters, charmed with what they termed the 
 hospitality and friendship of this invitation, delightedly 
 agreed to remain ; and as things were at least conducted 
 in better style there than at Glenfern, uncomfortable as 
 it was, Lady Juliana found herself somewhat nearer home
 
 122 MARRIAGE. 
 
 there than at the family chateau. Lady Maclaughlan, 
 who could be commonly civil in her own house, was at 
 some pains to amuse her guests, by showing her collec- 
 tion of china and cabinet of gems, both of which were 
 remarkably fine. There was also a library, a music 
 room, a gallery containing some good pictures, and, 
 what Lady Juliana prized still more, a billiard -table. 
 Thursday, the destined day, at length arrived, and a 
 large party assembled to dinner. Lady Juliana, as she 
 half reclined on a sofa, surveyed the company with a 
 supercilious stare, and without deigning to take any part 
 in the general conversation that went on. It was 
 enough that they spoke with a peculiar accent — every- 
 thing they said must be barbarous ; but she was pleased 
 once more to eat off plate, and to find herself in rooms 
 which, though grotesque and comfortless, yet wore an 
 air of state, and whose vastness enabled her to keep 
 aloof from those with whom she never willingly came 
 in contact. It was therefore with regret she saw the 
 day of her departure arrive, and found herself once 
 more an unwilling inmate of her only asylum, particu- 
 larly as her situation now required comforts and in- 
 dulgences which it was there impossible to procure. 
 
 Chapter %\T^^ 
 
 No mother's care 
 
 Shielded my infant innocence with prayer : 
 
 ****** 
 
 Mother, miscall'd, farewell ! 
 
 Savage. 
 
 THE happy period, so long and anxiously antici- 
 pated by the ladies of Glenfern, at length 
 arrived, and Lady Juliana presented to the 
 house of Douglas — not, alas ! the ardently desired heir
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 23 
 
 to its ancient consequence, but twin-daughters, who 
 could only be regarded as additional burdens on its 
 poverty. 
 
 The old gentleman's disappointment was excessive ; 
 and, as he paced up and down the parlour, with his 
 hands in his pockets, he muttered, " Twa lasses ! I 
 ne'er heard tell the like o't ! I wonder whar their 
 tochers are to come frae ? " 
 
 Miss Grizzy, in great perturbation, declared it cer- 
 tainly was a great pity it had so happened, but these 
 things couldn't be helped : she was sure Lady Mac- 
 laughlan would be greatly surprised, — there could be 
 no doubt about that. 
 
 Miss Jacky saw no cause for regret, and promised 
 herself an endless source of delight in forming the minds 
 and training the ideas of her infant nieces. 
 
 Miss Nicky wondered how they were to be nursed. 
 She was afraid Lady Juliana would not be able for 
 both, and wet-nurses had such appetites ! 
 
 Henry, meanwhile, whose love had all revived in 
 anxiety for the safety, and anguish for the sufferings, of 
 his youthful partner, had hastened to her apartment, 
 and, kneeling by her side, he pressed her hands to his 
 lips with feelings of deepest emotion. 
 
 " Dearer — a thousand times dearer to me than ever," 
 whispered he, as he fondly embraced her, " and those 
 sweet pledges of our love ! " 
 
 "Ah, don't mention them," interrupted his lady, in 
 a languid tone. " How very provoking ! I hate girls 
 so — and two of them — oh ! " and she sighed deeply. 
 Her husband sighed too ; but from a different cause. 
 The nurse now appeared, and approached with her 
 helpless charges ; and both parents, for the first time, 
 looked on their own offspring. 
 
 " What nice little creatures ! " said the delighted 
 
 o 
 
 father, as, taking them in his arms, he imprinted the
 
 1 24 MARRIAGE. 
 
 first kiss on the innocent faces of his daughters, and then 
 held them to their mother ; who, turning from them 
 with disgust, exclaimed, " How can you kiss them, 
 Harry ! They are so ugly, and they squall so ! Oh 
 do, for heaven's sake, take them away ! And see, 
 there is poor Psyche, quite wretched at being so long 
 away from me — pray, put her on the bed.'* 
 
 " She will grow fond of her babies by and by," said 
 poor Henry to himself, as he quitted the apartment, 
 with feelings very different from those with which he 
 entered it. 
 
 At the pressing solicitations of her husband, the 
 fashionable mother was prevailed upon to attempt 
 nursing one of her poor starving infants ; but the 
 first trial proved also the last, as she declared nothing 
 upon earth should ever induce her to perform so odious 
 an office ; and as Henry's entreaties, and her aunt's 
 remonstrances, served alike to irritate and agitate her, 
 the contest was, by the advice of her medical attendant, 
 completely given up. A wet-nurse was therefore pro- 
 cured ; but as she refused to undertake both children, 
 and the old gentleman would not hear of having 
 two such incumbrances in his family, it was settled, to 
 the unspeakable delight of the maiden sisters, that the 
 youngest should be entrusted entirely to their manage- 
 ment, and brought up by hand. 
 
 The consequence was such as might have been fore- 
 seen. The child, who was naturally weak and delicate 
 at its birth, daily lost a portion of its little strength, while 
 its continued cries declared the intensity of its sufferings, 
 ihough they produced no other effect on its unfeeling 
 mother than her having it removed to a more distant 
 apartment, as she could not endure to hear the cross 
 little thing scream so for nothing. On the other hand, 
 the more favoured twin, who was from its birth a re- 
 markably strong lively infant, and met with all justice
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 25 
 
 from its nurse, throve apace, and was pronounced by her 
 to be the very picture of the bonnie leddie, its mamma ; 
 and then, with all the low cunning of her kind, she 
 would launch forth into panegyrics of its beauty, and 
 prophecies of the great dignities and honours that would 
 one day be showered upon it ; until, by her fawning and 
 flattery, she succeeded in exciting a degree of interest 
 which nature had not secured for it in the mother's 
 breast. 
 
 Things were in this situation, when, at the end of 
 three weeks, Mr and Mrs Douglas arrived to offer their 
 congratulations on the birth of the twins. Lady Juliana 
 received her sister-in-law in her apartment, which she 
 had not yet quitted, and replied to her congratulations 
 only by querulous complaints and childish murmurs. 
 
 " I am sure you are very happy in not having chil- 
 dren,"' continued she, as the cries of the little sufferer 
 reached her ear ; " I hope to goodness I shall never 
 have any more. — I wonder if any body ever had twin 
 daughters before ! and I, too, who hate girls so ! " 
 
 Mrs Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, 
 knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued ; but a 
 fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again 
 called forth its mother's indignation. 
 
 " I wish to goodness that child was gagged," cried 
 she, holding her hands to her ears. " It has done 
 nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it 
 makes me quite sick to hear it." 
 
 " Poor little dear ! " said Mrs Douglas, compassion- 
 ately, " it appears to suffer a great deal." 
 
 " Suffer ! " repeated her sister-in-law : " what can it 
 suffer ? I am sure it meets with a great deal more 
 attention than any person in the house. These three old 
 women do nothing but feed it from morning to night, 
 with every thing they can think of, and make such a 
 fuss about it ! "
 
 126 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " I suspect, my dear sister, you would be very sorry 
 for yourself," said Mrs Douglas, with a smile, " were 
 you to endure the same treatment as your poor baby ; 
 stuffed with improper food, and loathsome drugs, and 
 bandied about from one person to another." 
 
 " You may say what you please," retorted Lady 
 Juliana, pettishly ; " but I know it's nothing but ill- 
 temper : nurse says so, too ; and it is so ugly with con- 
 stantly crying, that I cannot bear to look at it : " and 
 she turned away her head as Miss Jacky entered with 
 the little culprit in her arms, which she was vainly en- 
 deavouring to talk into silence, while she dandled it in 
 the most awkward spinster-like manner imaginable. 
 
 " Shocking ! what a fright ! " exclaimed the tender 
 parent, as her child was held up to her. " Why, it is 
 much less than when it was born, and its skin is as yellow 
 as saffron, and it squints ! Only look what a differ- 
 ence ! " as the nurse advanced and ostentatiously dis- 
 played her charge, who had just waked out of a long 
 sleep ; its cheeks flushed with heat ; its skin completely 
 filled up ; and its large eyes rolling under its already 
 dark eyelashes. 
 
 " My missy is just her mamma's pickter," drawled out 
 the nurse, " but the wee missy's unco like her 
 
 aunties." 
 
 " Take her away," cried Lady Juliana, in a tone of 
 despair — "I wish I could send her out of my hearing 
 altogether, for her noise will be my death." 
 
 " Alas ! what would I give to hear the blessed sound 
 of a living child! " exclaimed Mrs Douglas, taking the 
 infant in her arms. " And how great would be my 
 happiness, could I call this poor rejected one mine ! " 
 
 " I'm sure you are welcome to my share of the little 
 plague," said her sister-in-law, with a laugh, " if you 
 can prevail upon Harry to give up his." 
 
 " I would give up a great deal, could my poor child
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 27 
 
 find a mother," replied her husband, who just then 
 entered. 
 
 " My dear brother ! " cried Mrs Douglas, her eyes 
 beaming with delight, " do you then confirm Lady 
 Juliana's kind promise ? Indeed I will be a mother to 
 your dear baby, and love her as if she were my own ; 
 and in a month — oh ! in much less time — you shall see 
 her as stout as her sister." 
 
 Henry sighed as he thought, " why has not my poor 
 babe such a mother of its own ! " Then thanking his 
 sister-in-law for her generous intentions, he reminded 
 her that she must consult her husband, as few men like 
 to be troubled with any children but their own. 
 
 " You are in the right," said Mrs Douglas, blushing 
 at the impetuosity of feeling which had made her forget 
 for an instant the deference due to her husband ; " I 
 shall instantly ask his permission ; and he is so indulgent 
 to all my wishes, that I have little doubt of obtain- 
 ing his consent : " and, with the child in her arms, 
 she hastened to her husband, and made known her 
 request. 
 
 Mr Douglas received the proposal with considerable 
 coolness ; wondering what his wife could see in such 
 an ugly squalling thing, to plague herself about it. If 
 it had been a boy, old enough to speak and run about, 
 there might be some amusement in it ; but he could not 
 see the use of a squalling sickly infant — and a girl, too ! 
 
 His wife sighed deeply, and the tears stole down her 
 cheeks, as she looked on the wan visage and closed eyes 
 of the little sufferer. " Poor baby ! " said she, mourn- 
 fully, " you are rejected on all hands, but your misery 
 will soon be at an end ; " and she was slowly leaving 
 the room with her helpless charge, when her husband, 
 touched at the sight of her distress, though the feeling 
 that caused it he did not comprehend, called to her, — 
 " I am sure, Alicia, if you really wish to take charge of
 
 128 MARRIAGE. 
 
 the infant, I have no objections ; only I think you will 
 find it a great plague, and the mother is such a fool ! '* 
 
 " Worse than a fool," said Mrs Douglas indignantly, 
 " for she hates and abjures this her poor unoffending 
 babe." 
 
 " Does she so ? " cried Mr Douglas, every kindling 
 feeling roused within him at the idea of his blood being 
 hated and abjured ; " then, hang me ! if she shall have 
 any child of Harry's to hate, as long as I have a house 
 to shelter it, and a sixpence to bestow upon it," — taking 
 the infant in his arms, and kindly kissing it. 
 
 Mrs Douglas smiled through her tears, as she em- 
 braced her husband, and praised his goodness and 
 generosity ; then, full of exultation and delight, she 
 flew to impart the success of her mission to the parents 
 of her protege. 
 
 Great was the surprise of the maiden-nurses at finding 
 they were to be bereft of their little charge. 
 
 " I declare, I think the child is doing as well as 
 possible," said Miss Grizzy. " To be sure, it does 
 yammer constantly — that can't be denied ; and it is un- 
 commonly small — nobody can dispute that. At the 
 same time, I am sure, I can't tell what makes it cry, 
 for I've given it two colic powders every day, and a 
 teaspoon ful of Lady Maclaughlan's carminative every 
 three hours." 
 
 " And I've done nothing but make water-gruel and 
 chop rusks for it," quoth Miss Nicky, " and yet it is 
 never satisfied. I wonder what it would be at ! " 
 
 " I know perfectly well what it would be at," said 
 Miss Jacky, with an air of importance. " All this cry- 
 ing and screaming is for nothing else but a nurse ; but 
 it ought not to be indulged : there is no end of indulg- 
 ing the desires, and 'tis amazing how cunning children 
 are, and how soon they know how to take advantage of 
 people's weakness," glancing an eye of fire at Mrs
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 29 
 
 Douglas. " Were that my child, I would feed her 
 on bread and water, before I would humour her fancies. 
 A pretty lesson indeed, if she's to have her own way 
 before she's a month old ! " 
 
 Mrs Douglas knew that it was in vain to attempt 
 arguing with her aunts. She therefore allowed them 
 to wonder, and declaim over their sucking pots, colic 
 powders, and other instruments of torture, while she 
 sent to the wife of one of her tenants who had lately 
 Iain in, and who wished for the situation of nurse, ap- 
 pointing her to be at Lochmarlie the following day. 
 Having made her arrangements, and collected the scanty 
 portion of clothing Mrs Nurse chose to allow, Mrs 
 Douglas repaired to her sister-in-law's apartment, with 
 her little charge in her arms. She found her still in 
 bed, and surrounded with her favourites. 
 
 " So you really are going to torment yourself with 
 that little screech-owl," said she. " Well, I must say 
 it's very good of you ; but I am afraid you will soon 
 tire of her. Children are such plagues ! Are they not, 
 my darling ? " added she, kissing her pug. 
 
 " You will not say so when you have seen my little 
 girl a month hence," said Mrs Douglas, trying to con- 
 ceal her disgust for Henry's sake, who had just then 
 entered the room. " She has promised me never to 
 cry any more ; so give her a kiss, and let us be gone." 
 
 The high-bred mother slightly touched the cheek of 
 her sleeping babe, extended her finger to her sister-in- 
 law, and, carelessly bidding them good-bye, returned to 
 her pillow and her pugs. 
 
 Henry accompanied Mrs Douglas to the carriage, 
 and, before they parted, he promised his brother to ride 
 over to Lochmarlie in a few days. He said nothing 
 of his child, but his glistening eye and the warm pres- 
 sure of his hand spoke volumes to the kind heart of his 
 brother ; who assured him that Alice would be veiy 
 
 I. I
 
 130 MARRIAGE. 
 
 good to his little girl, and that he was sure she would 
 get quite well when she got a nurse. The carriage 
 drove off, and Henry, with a heavy spirit, returned to 
 the house to listen to his father's lectures, hi« aunts* 
 ejaculations, and his wife's murmurs. 
 
 We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
 Is to come in. 
 
 Benry IF. 
 
 THE birth of twin daughters awakened the young 
 father to a still stronger sense of the total de- 
 pendence and extreme helplessness of his con- 
 dition. Yet how to remedy it he knew not : to accept 
 of his father's proposal was out of the question, and it 
 was equally impossible for him, were he ever so in- 
 clined, to remain much longer a burden on the narrow 
 income of the Laird of Glenfern. One alternative only 
 remained, which was to address the friend and patron 
 of his youth. General Cameron ; and to him he there- 
 fore wrote, describing all the misery of his situation, 
 and imploring his forgiveness and assistance. " The 
 old general's passion must have cooled by this time," 
 thought he to himself, as he sealed the letter ; " and, 
 as he has often overlooked former scrapes, I think, after 
 all, he will help me out of this greatest one of all." 
 
 For once, Henry was not mistaken. He received 
 an answer to his letter, in which the general — after 
 reviling his folly in marrying a lady of quality, up- 
 braiding him for the birth of his twin daughters, and 
 giving him some wholesome counsel as to his future 
 mode of life — concluded by informing him that he had 
 got him reinstated in his former rank in the army ; that
 
 MARRIAGE. I31 
 
 he should settle seven hundred per annum on him, till 
 he saw how matters were conducted ; and, in the 
 meantime, enclosed a draught for four hundred pounds, 
 to open the campaign. 
 
 Though this was not, according to Henry's notions, 
 " coming down handsomely," still it was better than 
 not coming down at all ; and, with a mixture of delight 
 and disappointment, he flew to communicate the tidings 
 to Lady Juliana. 
 
 ** Seven hundred pounds a-year ! " exclaimed she, 
 in raptures : " what a quantity of money ! why, we 
 shall be quite rich, and I shall have such a beautiful 
 house, and such pretty carriages, and give such parties, 
 and buy so many fine things — oh dear, how happy I 
 shall be ! " 
 
 " You know little of money, Julia, if you think seven 
 hundred, pounds will do all that," replied her husband 
 gravely. " I hardly think we can afford a house in 
 town ; but we may have a pretty cottage at Richmond 
 or Twickenham ; and I can keep a curricle, and drive 
 you about, you know ; and we may give famous good 
 family dinners." 
 
 A dispute here ensued : her ladyship hated cottages, 
 and curricles, and good family dinners, as much as her 
 husband despised fancy balls, opera boxes, and chariots. 
 
 The fact was, that the one knew very nearly as much 
 of the real value of money as the other, and Henry's 
 sober scheme was just about as practicable as his wife's 
 extravagant one. 
 
 Brought up in the luxurious profusion of a great 
 house, — accustomed to issue her orders, and have them 
 obeyed, Lady Juliana, at the time she married, was in 
 the most blissful state of ignorance respecting the value 
 of pounds, shillings, and pence. Her maid took care 
 to have her wardrobe supplied with all things needful ; 
 and when she wanted a new dress, or a fashionable
 
 132 MARRIAGE. 
 
 jewel, it was only driving to Madame D.'s or Mr Y.*s, 
 and desiring the article to be sent to herself, while the 
 bill went to her papa. 
 
 From never seeing money in its own vulgar form. 
 Lady Juliana had learned to consider it as a mere 
 nominal thing ; while, on the other hand, her husband, 
 from seeing too much of it, had formed almost equally 
 erroneous ideas of its powers. By the mistaken kind- 
 ness of General Cameron, he had been indulged in all 
 the fashionable follies of the day, and allowed to use his 
 patron's ample fortune as if it had already been his 
 own ; nor was it until he found himself a prisoner at 
 Glenfern from want of money, that he had ever attached 
 the smallest importance to it. In short, both the 
 husband and wife had been accustomed to look upon it 
 in the same light as the air they breathed. They knew 
 it essential to life, and concluded that it would come 
 some way or other ; either from the east or west, north 
 or south. As for the vulgar concerns of meat and 
 drink, servants' wages, taxes, and so forth, they never 
 found a place in the calculations of either. Birth-day 
 dresses, fetes, operas, equipages, and state liveries, 
 whirled in rapid succession through Lady Juliana's 
 brain ; while clubs, curricles, horses, and claret took 
 possession of her husband's mind. 
 
 However much they differed in the proposed modes 
 of showing off in London, both agreed perfectly in the 
 necessity of going there ; and Henry therefore hastened 
 to inform his father of the change in his circumstances, 
 and apprise him of his intention of immediately joining 
 his regiment, the Guards. 
 
 " Seven hunder pound a-year ! " exclaimed the old 
 gentleman ; " seven hunder pound ! Oo what can ye 
 mak o' a' that siller ? Ye'll surely lay by the half o't 
 to tocher your bairns ? Seven hunder pound a-year for 
 doing naething ! "
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 33 
 
 Miss Jacky was afraid, unless they got some person 
 of sense (which would not be an easy matter) to take 
 the management of it, it would perhaps be found little 
 enough in the long run. 
 
 Miss Grizzy declared it was a very handsome 
 income, — nobody could dispute that ; at the same time 
 every body must allow that the money could not have 
 been better bestowed, and she was certain — there could 
 be no doubt about that — with the young people's good 
 sense, and good principles, and two daughters to pro- 
 vide for, they would make a good use of it. 
 
 Miss Nicky observed, " there was a great deal of 
 good eating and drinking in seven hundred a-year, if 
 people knew how to manage it." 
 
 All was bustle and preparation throughout Glenfern 
 Castle ; and the young ladies' good-natured activity 
 and muscular powers were again in requisition to collect 
 the wardrobe, and pack the trunks, imperial, &c., or 
 their noble sister. 
 
 Glenfern remarked, " that fules war fond o' flitting, 
 for they seemed glad to leave the good quarters they 
 were in." 
 
 Miss Grizzy declared, there was a great excuse for 
 their being glad, poor things ! young people were 
 always so fond of a change : at the same time, it would 
 have been quite natural for them to feel sorry too, — 
 nobody could deny that ! 
 
 Miss Jacky was astonished how any person's mind 
 could be so callous as to think of leaving Glenfern 
 without emotion. 
 
 Miss Nicky wondered what was to become of the 
 christening cake she had ordered from Perth ; it might 
 be as old as the hills before there would be another 
 child born amongst them. 
 
 The misses were ready to weep at the disappointment 
 of the dreaming-bread.
 
 134 MARRIAGE. 
 
 In the midst of all this agitation, mental and bodily, 
 the long-looked for moment arrived. The carriage 
 drove round ready packed and loaded ; and, absolutely 
 screaming with delight, Lady Juliana sprang into it : as 
 she nodded, and kissed her hand to the assembled group, 
 she impatiently called to Henry to follow. His adieus 
 were, however, not quite so tonish as those of his high- 
 bred lady, for he went duly and severally through all 
 the evolutions of kissing, embracing, shaking of hands, 
 and promises to write ; then taking his station by the 
 side of the nurse and child, the rest of the carriage 
 being completely filled by the favourites, he bade a long 
 farewell to his paternal halls and the land of his birth. 
 
 Chapter %%j^ 
 
 For trifles, why should I displease 
 
 b 
 
 The man I love ? For trifles such as these, 
 To serious mischiefs lead the man I love ? 
 
 Horace. 
 
 T") RIGHT prospects of future happiness, and endless 
 plans of expense, floated through Lady Juliana's 
 brain, and kept her temper in some degree of 
 serenity during the journey. 
 
 Arrived in London, she expressed herself enraptured 
 at being once more in a civilised country, and restored 
 to the society of human creatures. An elegant house 
 and suitable establishment were immediately provided ; 
 and a thousand dear friends, who had completely for- 
 gotten her existence, were now eager to welcome her 
 to her former haunts, and lead her thoughtless and 
 willing steps in the paths of dissipation and extrava- 
 gance. 
 
 Soon after their arrival, they were visited by General
 
 MARRIAGE. I35 
 
 Cameron. It was two o'clock, yet Lady Juliana had 
 not appeared ; and Henry, half-stretched upon a sofa, 
 was dawdling over his breakfast, with half-a-dozen 
 newspapers scattered round. 
 
 The first salutations over, the General demanded — 
 ** Am I not to be favoured with a sight of your lady ? 
 Is she afraid that I am one of your country relations, 
 and taken her flight from the breakfast-table in con- 
 sequence ? " 
 
 " She has not yet made her appearance," replied 
 Douglas ; " but I will let her know you are here. I 
 am sure she will be happy to make acquaintance with 
 one to whom I am so much indebted." 
 
 A message was despatched to Lady Juliana, who re- 
 turned for answer that she would be down immediately. 
 Three quarters of an hour, however, elapsed ; and the 
 general, provoked with this inattention and affectation, 
 was preparing to depart, when the lady made her 
 appearance. 
 
 " Juliana, my love," said her husband, " let me pre- 
 sent you to General Cameron — the generous friend 
 who has acted the part of a father towards me, and to 
 whom you owe all the comforts you enjoy." 
 
 Lady Juliana slightly bowed with careless ease, and 
 half uttered a " How d'ye do ? — very happy indeed — " 
 as she glided on to pull the bell for breakfast. " Cupid, 
 Cupid ! " cried she to the dog, who had flown upon 
 the general, and was barking most vehemently ; " poor 
 darUng Cupid ! are you almost starved to death ? 
 Harry, do give him that muflan on your plate." 
 
 " You are very late to-day, my love," cried the 
 mortified husband. 
 
 " I have been pestered for the last hour with Duval 
 and the court dresses, and I could not fix on what I 
 should like." 
 
 ** I think you might have deferred the ceremony of
 
 136 MARRIAGE. 
 
 choosing to another opportunity. General Cameron 
 has been here above an hour." 
 
 " Dear ! I hope you did not wait for me — I shall 
 be quite shocked ! " drawled out her ladyship, in a 
 tone denoting how very indifferent the answer would 
 be to her. 
 
 " I beg your ladyship would be under no uneasiness 
 on that account," replied the general, in an ironical 
 tone, which, though lost upon her, was obvious enough 
 to Henry. 
 
 " Have you breakfasted ? " asked Lady Juliana, 
 exerting herself to be polite. 
 
 " Absurd, my love ! " cried her husband. " Do you 
 suppose I should have allowed the general to wait for 
 that, too, all this time, if he had not breakfasted many 
 hours ago ? " 
 
 " How cross you are this morning, my Harry ! I 
 protest my Cupidon is quite ashamed of your gros- 
 sierete ! " 
 
 A servant now entered to say Mr Shagg was come 
 to know her ladyship's final decision about the hammer- 
 cloths ; and the new footman was come to be engaged ; 
 and the china merchant was below. 
 
 " Send up one of them at a time ; and as to the 
 footman, you may say I'll have him at once," said 
 Lady Juliana. 
 
 " I thought you had engaged Mrs D.'s footman last 
 week. She gave him the best character, did she not ? " 
 asked her husband. 
 
 " Oh, yes, his character was good enough ; but he 
 was a horrid cheat, for all that. He called himself 
 five feet nine, and when he was measured he turned out 
 to be only five feet seven and a half." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed Henry, angrily. " What 
 did that signify, if the man had a good character ? " 
 
 "How absurdly you talk, Harry, as if a man's
 
 ^ MARRIAGE. 137 
 
 character signified, who has nothing to do but stand 
 behind my carriage ! A pretty figure he would have 
 made there beside Thomas, who is at least five feet 
 ten ! " 
 
 The entrance of Mr Shagg, bowing and scraping, 
 and laden with cloths, lace, and fringes, interrupted the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Well, Mr Shagg," cried I.ady Juliana, " what's 
 to be done with that odious leopard's skin ? You 
 must positively take it off my hands. I would rather 
 never go in a carriage again than show myself in the 
 Park with that frightful thing ! " 
 
 " Certainly, my lady," replied the obsequious Mr 
 Shagg, " anything your ladyship pleases ; your lady- 
 ship can have any hammer-cloth you like ; and I have 
 accordingly brought patterns of the very newest fashions 
 for your ladyship to make choice. Here are some 
 uncommon elegant articles. At the same time, my 
 lady, your ladyship must be sensible that it is impossible 
 that we can take back the leopard's skin. It was not 
 only cut out to fit your ladyship's coach-box — and 
 consequently your ladyship understands it would not fit 
 any other — but the silver feet and crests have also been 
 affixed quite ready for use, so that the article is quite 
 lost to us. I am confident, therefore, that your lady- 
 ship will consider of this, and allow it to be put down 
 in your bill." 
 
 " Put it anywhere but on my coach-box, and don't 
 bore me ! " answered Lady Juliana, tossing over the 
 patterns, and humming a tune. 
 
 " What ! " said her husband, " is that the leopard's 
 skin you were raving about last week, and are you tired 
 of it before it has been used ? " 
 
 "And no wonder. Who do you think I saw in the 
 Park yesterday, but that old quiz Lady Denham, just 
 come from the country, with her frightful old coach set
 
 138 MARRIAGE. 
 
 off with a hammer-cloth precisely like the one I had 
 ordered. Only fancy people saying, Lady Denham 
 sets the fashion for Lady Juliana Douglas ! Oh, 
 there's confusion and despair in the thought ! " 
 
 Confusion, at least, if not despair, was painted in 
 Henry's face, as he saw the general's glance directed 
 alternately with contempt at Lady Juliana and at him- 
 self, mingled with pity. He continued to fidget about 
 in all directions while Lady Juliana talked nonsense to 
 Mr Shagg, and wondered if the general never meant to 
 go away. But he calmly kept his ground till the man 
 was dismissed, and another introduced, loaded with 
 china jars, monsters, and distorted tea-pots, for the 
 capricious fair one's choice and approbation. 
 
 " Beg ten thousand pardons, my lady, for not calling 
 yesterday, according to appointment — quite an unfore- 
 seen impediment. The Countess of Godolphin had 
 somehow got private intelligence that I had a set of 
 fresh commodities just cleared from the Custom-house ; 
 and, well knowing that such things are not long in 
 hand, her la'ship came up from the country on pur- 
 pose — the countess has so much taste! — she drove 
 straight to my warehouse, and kept me a close prisoner 
 till after your la' ship's hour ; but I hope it may not 
 be taken amiss, seeing that it is not a customary thing 
 with us to be calling on customers, not to mention 
 that this line of goods is not easily transported about. 
 However, I flatter myself the articles now brought for 
 your ladyship's inspection will not be found beneath 
 your notice. Please to observe this choice piece — it 
 represents a Chinese cripple, squat on the ground, with 
 his legs crossed. Your ladyship may observe the head 
 and chin advanced forwards, as in the act of begging. 
 The tea pours from the open mouth ; and, till your 
 ladyship tries, you can have no idea of the elegant 
 effect it produces."
 
 MARRIAGE. I39 
 
 "That Is really droll," cried Lady Juliana, with a 
 laugh of delight ; " and I must have the dear sick 
 beggar, he is so deliciously hideous." 
 
 " And here," continued Mr Brittle, " is an amazing 
 delicate article, in the way of a jewel : a frog of 
 Turkish agate for burning pastiles in, my lady ; just 
 such as they use in the seraglio ; and, indeed, this one 
 I may call invaluable, for it was the favourite toy of 
 one of the widowed sultanas, till she grew devout and 
 gave up perfumes. One of her slaves disposed of it to 
 my foreign partner. Here it opens at the tail, where 
 you put in the pastiles, and, closing it up, the vapour 
 issues beautifully through the nostrils, eyes, ears, and 
 mouth, all at once. Here, sir," turning to Douglas, 
 " if you are curious in new workmanship, I would have 
 you examine this. I defy any jeweller in London to 
 come up to the fineness of these hinges, and delicacy of 
 the carving " 
 
 " Pshaw, hang it ! " said Douglas, turning away, 
 and addressing some remark to the general, who was 
 provokingly attentive to everything that went on. 
 
 " Here," continued Mr Brittle, " are a set of jars, 
 tea-pots, mandarins, sea-monsters, and pug-dogs ; all of 
 superior beauty, but such as your ladyship may have 
 seen before." 
 
 " Oh, the dear, dear little puggies ! I must have 
 them to amuse my own darlings. I protest here is one 
 the image of Psyche ; positively I must kiss it ! " 
 
 " Oh dear ! I am sure," cried Mr Brittle, simper- 
 ing, and making a conceited bow, " your ladyship does 
 it and me too much honour. But here, as I was going 
 to say, is the phoenix of all porcelain ware — the ne plus 
 ultra of perfection — what I have kept in my back- 
 room, concealed from all eyes, until your ladyship shall 
 pronounce upon it. Somehow one of my shopmen got 
 word of it, and told her grace of L (who has a
 
 I40 MARRIAGE. 
 
 pretty taste in these things for a young lady) that I 
 had some particular choice article that I was keeping 
 for a lady that was a favourite of mine. Her grace 
 was in the shop the matter of a full hour and a half, 
 trying to wheedle me out of a sight of this rare piece ; 
 and I pretending not to know what her grace would be 
 after, but showing her thing after thing, to put it out of 
 her head. But she was not so easily bubbled, and at 
 last went away ill enough pleased. Now, my lady, 
 prepare all your eyes : '' he then went to the door, and 
 returned, carrying with difficulty a large basket, which 
 till then had been kept by one of his own satelHtes. 
 After removing coverings of all descriptions, an un- 
 couth group of monstrous size was displayed ; which, 
 on investigation, appeared to be a serpent coiled in 
 regular folds round the body of a tiger placed on end ; 
 and the whole structure, which was intended for a 
 vessel of some kind, was formed of the celebrated green 
 mottled china, invaluable to connoisseurs. 
 
 " View that well," exclaimed Mr Brittle, in a 
 transport of enthusiasm, " for such a specimen not one 
 of half the size has ever been imported to Europe. 
 There is a long story about this my phoenix, as I call 
 it ; but to be brief, it was secretly procured from one 
 of the temples, where, gigantic as it may seem, and 
 uncouth for the purpose, it was the idol's principal 
 tea-pot ! " 
 
 " O delicious ! " cried Lady Juliana, clasping her 
 hands in ecstacy ; " I will give a party for the sole pur- 
 pose of drinking tea out of this machine ; and I will 
 have the whole room fitted up like an Indian temple. 
 Oh ! it will be so new ! I die to send out my cards. 
 
 The Duchess of B told me the other day, with 
 
 such a triumphant air, when I was looking at her two 
 little green jars, not a quarter the size of this, that there 
 was not a bit more of that china to be had for love or
 
 MARRIAGE. I4I 
 
 money. Oh, she will be so provoked ! " And she 
 absolutely skipped for joy. 
 
 A loud rap at the door now announcing a visitor, 
 Lady JuHana ran to the balcony, crying, " Oh, it must 
 be Lady Gerard, for she promised to call early in the 
 morning, that we might go together to a wonderful sale 
 in some far-off place in the city — at Wapping, for 
 aught I know. Mr Brittle, Mr Brittle, for the love of 
 heaven, carry the dragon into the back drawing-room — 
 I purchase it, remember ! — make haste ! — Lady Gerard 
 is not to get a glimpse of it for the world." 
 
 The servant now entered with a message from Lady 
 Gerard, who would not alight, begging that Lady 
 Juliana would make haste down to her, as they had 
 not a moment to lose. She was flying away without 
 further ceremony than a " Pray, excuse me," to the 
 general, when her husband called after her to know 
 whether the child was gone out, as he wished to show 
 her to the general. 
 
 " I don't know, indeed," replied the fashionable 
 mother ; " I haven't had time to see her to-day ;" and, 
 before Douglas could reply, she was down stairs. 
 
 A pause ensued — the general whistled a quick step, 
 and Douglas walked up and down the room, in a pitiable 
 state of mind, guessing pretty much what was passing in 
 the mind of his friend, and fully sensible that it must be 
 of a severer nature than any thing he could yet allow 
 himself to think of his Juliana. 
 
 *' Douglas," said the general, " have you made any 
 step towards a reconciliation with your father-in-law ? 
 [ believe it will become shortly necessary for your 
 support." 
 
 " Juliana wrote twice after her marriage," replied he; 
 •' but the reception which her letters met with was not 
 mch as to encourage perseverance on our part. With 
 *egard to myself, it is not an affair in which delicacy
 
 142 MARRIAGE. 
 
 \vill permit me to be very active, as I might be accused 
 of mercenary motives, which I am far from having." 
 
 " Oh, of that I acquit you ; but surely it ought to be 
 
 a matter of moment, even to a Lady Juliana. The 
 
 case is now altered. Time must have accustomed him 
 to the idea of this imaginary affront ; and, on my honour, 
 if he thought like a gentleman and a man of sense, I 
 know where he would think the misfortune lay. Nay, 
 don't interrupt me. The old earl must now, I say, 
 have cooled in his resentment ; perhaps, too, his grand- 
 children may soften his heart ; this must have occurred 
 to you. Has her ladyship taken any further steps since 
 her arrival in town ? " 
 
 " I — I believe she has not ; but I will put her in 
 mind." 
 
 " A daughter who requires to have her memory re- 
 freshed on such a subject, is likely to make a valuable 
 wife ! " said the general, drily. 
 
 Douglas felt as if it was incumbent on him to be 
 angiy, but remained silent. 
 
 " Hark ye, Douglas," continued the general ; " I 
 speak this for your interest. You cannot go on without 
 the earl's help. You know I am not on ceremony with 
 you ; and if I refrain from saying what you see I think 
 about your present ruinous mode of life, it is not to spare 
 your feelings, but from a sense of the uselessness of any 
 such remonstrance. What I do give you is with good- 
 will ; but all my fortune would not suffice to furnish 
 pug-dogs and deformed tea-pots for such a vitiated 
 taste ; and if it would, hang me if it should ! But 
 enough on this head. The earl has been in bad health, 
 and is lately come to town. His son too, and his lady, 
 are to come about the same time, and are to reside with 
 him during the season. I have heard Lord Lindore 
 spoken of as a good-natured easy man, and he would 
 probably enter willingly into any scheme to reinstate his
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 43 
 
 sister into his father's good graces. Think of this, and 
 make what you can of it ; and my particular advice to 
 you personally is, try to exchange into a marching 
 regiment : for a fellow like you, with such a wife, 
 London is the very mischief! and so good morning 
 to you.'' He snatched up his hat, and was off in a 
 moment. 
 
 -o — 
 
 Chapter TC%ij^ 
 
 To reckon up a thousand of her pranks, 
 Her pride, her wasteful spending, her unkindness, 
 Her scolding, pouting, .... 
 
 Were to reap an endless catalogue. 
 
 Old Flay. 
 
 WHEN Lady Juliana returned from her expedi- 
 tion it was so late that Douglas had not time 
 to speak to her ; and, separate engagements 
 carrying them different ways, he had no opportunity to 
 do so until the following morning at breakfast. He 
 then resolved no longer to defer what he had to say, 
 and began by reproaching her with the cavalier manner 
 in which she had behaved to his good friend the general. 
 
 " Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly 
 savage," cried his lady. " I was most particularly 
 civil. I wonder what you would have me to do ? 
 You know very well, I cannot have any thing to say 
 to old men of that sort." 
 
 " I think," returned Henry, " you might have been 
 gratified by making an acquaintance with my benefactor, 
 and the man to whom you owe the enjoyment of your 
 favourite pleasures. At any rate, you need not have 
 made yourself ridiculous. May I perish, if I did not 
 wish myself under ground while you were talking non- 
 sense to those sneaking rascals, who wheedle you out of
 
 144 MARRIAGE. 
 
 your money ! *Sdeath ! I had a good mind to throw 
 them and their trumpery out of the window, when I saw 
 you make such a fool of yourself." 
 
 " A fool of myself! how foolishly you talk ! And as 
 for that vulgar awkward general, he ought to have been 
 too much flattered. Some of the monsters were so like 
 himself, I am sure he must have thought I took them 
 for the love of his round bare pate." 
 
 " Upon my soul, Julia, I am ashamed of you ! Do 
 leave off this excessive folly, and try to be rational. 
 What I particularly wished to say to you is, that your 
 father is in town, and it will be proper that you should 
 make another effort to be reconciled to him." 
 
 " I dare say it will," answered Lady Juliana, with a 
 yawn. 
 
 "And you must lose no time. When will you 
 write ? " 
 
 " There's no use in writing, or indeed doing any thing 
 in the matter. I am sure he won't forgive me." 
 
 " And why not ? " 
 
 " Oh, why should he do it now ? He did not for- 
 give me when I asked him before." 
 
 " And do you think, then, for a father's forgiveness 
 it is not worth while to have a little perseverance ? " 
 
 ** I am sure he won't do it ; so 'tis in vain to try ; " 
 repeated she, going to the glass, and singing, " Papa non 
 dite dt no^^ &c. 
 
 " By heavens, Julia ! " cried her husband passion- 
 ately, " you are past all endurance ! Can nothing touch 
 you ? — nothing fix your thoughts, and make you serious 
 for a single moment ? Can I not make you understand 
 that you are ruining yourself and me ; that we have 
 nothing to depend upon but the bounty of that man 
 whom you disgust by your caprice, extravagance, and 
 impertinence ; and that if you don't get reconciled to 
 your father, what is to become of you ? You already
 
 MARRIAGE. I45 
 
 know what you have to expect from my family, and 
 how you like living with them." 
 
 " Heavens, Harry ! what is all this tirade about ? 
 Is it because I said papa wouldn't forgive me ? I'm 
 sure I don't mind writing to him ; I have no objection, 
 the first leisure moment 1 have ; but really, in town, 
 one's time is so engrossed " 
 
 At this moment her maid entered in triumph, carry- 
 ing on her arms a satin dress, embroidered with gold 
 and flowers. 
 
 " See, my lady," cried she, " your new robe, as 
 madame has sent home half a day sooner than her 
 word ; and she has disobliged several of the quality, by 
 not giving the pattern." 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! charming ! Spread it out. Gage ; 
 hold it to the light : all my own fancy ! Only look, 
 Harry ; how exquisite ! how divine ! " 
 
 Harry had no time to express his contempt for em- 
 broidered robes ; for just then one of his knowing 
 friends came, by appointment, to accompany him to 
 Tattersal's, where he was to bid for a famous pair of 
 curricle greys. 
 
 Days passed on without Lady Juliana's ever thinking " 
 it worth while to follow her husband's advice about 
 applying to her father ; until, a week after, Douglas 
 overheard the following conversation between his wife 
 and one of her acquaintance. 
 
 " You are going to this grand fete, of course," said 
 Mrs G. " I'm told it is to eclipse every thing that has 
 been yet seen or heard of." 
 
 " Of what fete do you speak ? " demanded Lady 
 Juliana. 
 
 " My dear creature, how Gothic you are ! Don't 
 you know any thing about this grand affair, that every 
 body has been talking of for two days ? Lady Lindore 
 gives, at your father's house, an entertainment, which is 
 
 I. K
 
 146 MARRIAGE. 
 
 to be a concert, ball, and masquerade at once. All 
 London is asked, of any distinction, qa s*entend. But, 
 bless me, I beg pardon ! I totally forgot that you were 
 not on the best terms possible in that quarter — but 
 never mind, we must have you go ; there is not a per- 
 son of fashion that will stay away : I must get you 
 asked ; I shall petition Lady Lindore in your favour." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't trouble yourself," cried Lady 
 Juliana, in extreme pique. " I believe I can get this 
 done without your obliging interference ; but I don't 
 know whether I shall be in town then." 
 
 From this moment, Lady Juliana resolved to make a 
 vigorous effort to regain a footing in her father's house. 
 Her first action the next morning was to write to her 
 brother, who had hitherto kept aloof, because he could 
 not be at the trouble of having a difference with the 
 earl, entreating him to use his influence in promoting a 
 reconciliation between her father and herself. 
 
 No answer was returned for four days, at the end of 
 which time Lady Juliana received the following note 
 from her brother : — 
 
 " Dear Julia, 
 " I quite agree with you in thinking that you have 
 been kept long enough in the corner, and shall certainly 
 tell papa that you are ready to become a good girl 
 whenever he shall please to take you out of it. I shall 
 endeavour to see Douglas and you soon. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 *' Lindore. 
 
 " Lady Lindore desires me to say you can have 
 tickets for her ball, if you choose to come en masqueJ^ 
 
 Lady Juliana was delighted with this billet, which 
 she protested was every thing that was kind and
 
 MARRIAGE. I47 
 
 generous ; but the postcrlpt was the part on which she 
 dwelt with the greatest delight, as she repeatedly de- 
 clared it was a great deal more than she expected. 
 " You see, Harry," said she, as she tossed the note to 
 him, " I was in the right. Papa won't forgive me ; 
 but Lindore says he will send me a ticket for the fete : 
 it is vastly attentive of him, for I did not ask it. But I 
 must go disguised, which is monstrous provoking, for 
 I'm afraid nobody will know me." 
 
 A dispute here ensued. Henry swore she should 
 not steal into her father's house as long as she was his 
 wife. The lady insisted that she should go to her 
 brother's fete when she was invited ; and the alterca- 
 tion ended as altercations commonly do, leaving both 
 parties more wedded to their own opinion than at 
 first. 
 
 In the evening. Lady Juliana went to a large party; 
 and, as she was passing from one room to another, she 
 was startled by a little paper pellet thrown at her. 
 Turning round to look for the offender, she saw her 
 brother standing at a little distance, smiling at her sur- 
 prise. This was the first time she had seen him for 
 two years, and she went up to him with an extended 
 hand, while he gave her a familiar nod, and a " How 
 d'ye do, Julia ? " and one finger of his hand, while he 
 turned round to speak to one of his companions. 
 Nothing could be more characteristic of both parties 
 than this fraternal meeting ; and from this time they 
 were the best friends imaginable.
 
 I4S MARRIAGE. 
 
 Helas ! ou done chercher on trouver le bonheur, 
 Nulle part tout entier, partout avec mesure ! 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 SOME days before the expected fete, Lady Juliana, 
 at the instigation of her adviser, Lady Gerard, 
 resolved upon taking the field against the Duchess 
 
 of L . Her grace had issued cards for a concert ; 
 
 and, after mature deliberation, it was decided that her 
 rival should strike out something new, and announce a 
 christening for the same night. 
 
 The first intimation Douglas had of the honour in- 
 tended him by this arrangement was through the medium 
 of the newspaper ; for the husband and wife were 
 now much too fashionable to be at all au fait of each 
 other's schemes. His first emotion was to be extremely 
 surprised ; the next to be exceedingly displeased ; and 
 the last to be highly gratified at the eclat with which his 
 child was to be made a Christian. True, he had in- 
 tended requesting the general to act as godfather upon 
 the occasion ; but Lady Juliana protested she would 
 rather the child never should be christened at all (which 
 already seemed nearly to have been the case) than have 
 that cross vulgar-looking man to stand sponsor. Her 
 ladyship, however, so far conceded, that the general was 
 to have the honour of giving his name to the next, if a 
 boy, for she was now near her second confinement ; and, 
 with this promise, Henry was satisfied to slight the only 
 being in the world to whom he looked for support to 
 himself and his children. In the utmost delight, the 
 fond mother drove away to consult her confidants upon 
 the name and decorations of the child, whom she had 
 not even looked at for many days. 
 
 Every thing succeeded to admiration. Amid cjowds
 
 MARRIAGE. I49 
 
 of spectators, In all the pomp of lace and satin, sur- 
 rounded by princes and peers, and handed from duchesses 
 to countesses, the twin daughter of Henry Douglas, and 
 the heroine of future story, was baptized by the names 
 of Adelaide Julia Geraldine. 
 
 Some months previous to this event. Lady Juliana had 
 received a letter from Mrs Douglas, informing her of 
 the rapid improvement that had taken place in her little 
 charge, and requesting to know by what name she should 
 have her christened ; at the same time gently insinuating 
 her wish that, in compliance with the custom of the 
 country, and as a compliment due to the family, it should 
 be named after its paternal grandmother. 
 
 Lady Juliana glanced over the first line of the letter, 
 then looked at the signature, resolved to read the rest as 
 soon as she should have time to answer it ; and, in the 
 mean time, tossed it into a drawer, amongst old visiting 
 cards and unpaid bills. 
 
 After vainly waiting for an answer much beyond the 
 accustomed time when children are baptized, Mrs 
 Douglas could no longer refuse to accede to the desires 
 of the venerable inmates of Glenfern ; and, about a 
 month before her favoured sister received her more 
 elegant appellations, the neglected twin was baptized by 
 the name of Mary. 
 
 Mrs Douglas's letter had been enclosed in the follow- 
 ing one from Miss Grizzy ; and as it had not the good 
 fortune to be perused by the person to whom it was 
 addressed, we deem it but justice to the writer to insert 
 it here : — 
 
 " Glenfern Castle, July 30, 17 — . 
 
 ** My dearest Niece, Lady Juliana, 
 
 " I am Certain, as indeed we all are, that it will 
 Afford your Ladyship and our dear Nephew the greatest
 
 1 50 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Pleasure to see this letter Franked by our Worthy and 
 Respectable Friend Sir Sampson Maclaughlan, Bart., 
 especially as it is the First he has ever franked ; out of 
 compliment to you, as I assure you he admires you ex- 
 cessively, as indeed we all do. At the same Time, you 
 will of course, I am sure. Sympathise with us all in the 
 distress Occasioned by the melancholy Death of our late 
 Most Obliging Member, Duncan M'Dunsmuir, Esquire, 
 of Dhunacrag and Auchnagoil, who you never have had 
 the pleasure of seeing. What renders his death par- 
 ticularly distressing, is, that Lady Maclaughlan is of 
 opinion it was entirely owing to eating Raw oysters, and 
 damp feet. This ought to be a warning to all Young 
 people to take care of Wet feet, and Especially eating 
 Raw oysters, which are certainly Highly dangerous, 
 particularly where there is any Tendency to Gout. I 
 hope, my dear Niece, you have got a pair of Stout 
 walking shoes, and that both Henry and you remember 
 to Change your feet after Walking. I am told Raw 
 Oysters are much the fashion in London at present ; 
 but when this Fatal Event comes to be Known, it will 
 of course Alarm people very much, and put them upon 
 their guard both as to Damp Feet, and Raw oysters. 
 Lady Maclaughlan is in High spirits at Sir Sampson's 
 Success, though, at the Same Time, I assure you, she 
 Felt much for the Distress of poor Mr M'Dunsmuir, 
 and had sent him a Large Box of Pills, and a Bottle 
 of Gout Tincture, only two days before he died. This 
 will be a great Thing for you, and especially for Henry, 
 my dear niece, as Sir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan 
 are going to London directly to take his Seat in Par- 
 liament ; and she will make a point of Paying you every 
 attention, and will Matronize you to the play, and any 
 other Public places you may wish to go ; as both my 
 Sisters and I are of opinion you are rather Young to 
 matronize yourself yet, and you could not get a more
 
 MARRIAGE. I51 
 
 Respectable Matron than Lady Maclaughlan. I hope 
 Harry won't take it amiss, if Sir Sampson does not 
 pay him so much Attention as he might expect ; but he 
 says that he will not be master of a moment of his own 
 Time in London. He will be. so much taken up with 
 the King and the Duke of York, that he is afraid he 
 will Disoblige a great Number of the Nobility by it, 
 besides injuring his own health by such Constant appli- 
 cation to business. He is to make a very fine Speech 
 in Parliament, but it is not yet Fixed what his First 
 Motion is to be upon. He himself wishes to move for 
 a New Subsidy to the Emperor of Germany ; but Lady 
 Maclaughlan is of opinion, that it would be better to Bring 
 in a Bill for Building a bridge over the Water of Dlin ; 
 which, to be sure, is very much wanted, as a Horse and 
 Cart were drowned at the Ford last Speat. We are 
 All, I am happy to Say, in excellent Health. Becky 
 is recovering from the Measles as well as could be 
 Wished, and the Rose * is quite gone out of Bella's 
 Face. Beenie has been prevented from Finishing a 
 most Beautiful Pair of bottle Sliders for your Ladyship 
 by a whitlow, but it is now Mending, and I hope will 
 be done in Time to go with Babby's Vase Carpet, 
 which is extremely elegant, by Sir S. and Lady Mac- 
 laughlan. This Place is in great beauty at present, and 
 the new Byre is completely finished. My Sisters and I 
 regret Excessively that Henry and you should have 
 seen Glenfern to such disadvantage ; but when next 
 you favour us with a visit, I hope it will be in Summer, 
 and the New Byre you will think a Prodigious Im- 
 provement. Our dear Little Grand-niece is in great 
 health, and much improved. We reckon her Ex- 
 tremely like our Family, Particularly Becky ; though 
 she has a great Look of Bella, at the Same Time, when 
 she Laughs. Excuse the Shortness of this Letter, my 
 
 * Erysipelas.
 
 152 MARRIAGE. 
 
 dear Niece, as I shall Write a much Longer one by 
 Lady Maclaughlan. 
 
 " Meantime, I remain, my 
 
 "Dear Lady Juliana, yours and 
 
 " Henry's most affect, aunt, 
 
 " Grizzel Douglas.** 
 
 In spite of her husband's remonstrance. Lady Juliana 
 persisted in her resolution of attending her sister-in-law's 
 masked ball, from which she returned, worn out with 
 amusement, and surfeited with pleasure ; protesting all 
 the while she dawdled over her evening breakfast the fol- 
 lowing day, that there was nobody in the world so much 
 to be envied as Lady Lindore. Such jewels ! such 
 dresses ! such a house ! such a husband ! so easy and 
 good-natured, and rich and generous ! She was sure 
 Lindore did not care what his wife did. She might give 
 what parties she pleased ; go where she liked ; spend as 
 much money as she chose ; and he would never trouble 
 his head about the matter. She was quite certain Lady 
 Lindore had not a single thing to wish for : ergo, she 
 must be the happiest woman in the world ! All this was 
 addressed to Henry, who had, however, attained the 
 happy art of not hearing above one word out of a hundred 
 that happened to fall from the " angel lips of his adored 
 Julia ; " and, having finished the newspapers, and made 
 himself acquainted with all the blood-horses, thorough- 
 bred jillies^ and brood mares therein set forth, with a 
 
 yawn and whistle sauntered away to G 's, to look 
 
 at the last regulation epaulettes. 
 
 Not long after, as Lady Juliana was stepping into the 
 carriage that was to whirl her to Bond Street, she was 
 met by her husband ; who, with a solemnity of manner 
 that would have startled any one but his volatile lady, 
 requested she would return with him into the house, as 
 he wished to converse with her upon a subject of some
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 53 
 
 importance. He prevailed on her to return, upon con- 
 dition that he would not detain her above five minutes : 
 when, shutting the drawing-room doors, he said, with 
 earnestness, " I think, Julia, you were talking of Lady 
 Lindore this morning : oblige me by repeating what 
 you said, as I was reading the papers, and really did 
 not attend much to what passed." 
 
 Her ladyship, in extreme surprise, wondered how 
 Harry could be so tiresome and absurd as to stop her 
 airing for any such purpose. She really did not know 
 what she said. How could she ? It was more than an 
 hour ago. 
 
 " Well, then, say what you think of her now," cried 
 Douglas, impatiently. 
 
 " Think of her ! why, what all the world must think 
 — that she is the happiest woman in it. She looked so 
 uncommonly well last night, and was in such spirits, in 
 her fancy dress, before she masked — quite the life and 
 soul of the assembly. After that, I lost sight of 
 her." 
 
 " As every one else has done — she has not been seen 
 since. Her favourite St Leger is missing too, and there 
 is hardly a doubt but they are gone off together." 
 
 Even Lady Juliana was shocked at this intelligence, 
 though the folly, more than the wickedness, of the thing 
 seemed to strike her mind ; but Henry was no nice ob- 
 server, and was therefore completely satisfied with the 
 disapprobation she expressed for her sister-in-law's 
 conduct. 
 
 " I am so sorry for poor dear Lindore," said Lady 
 Juliana, after having exhausted herself in invectives 
 against his wife. " Such a generous creature as he to 
 be used in such a manner — it is quite shocking to think 
 of it ! If he had been an ill-natured stingy wretch, it 
 would have been nothing ; but Frederick is such a 
 noble-hearted creature — I dare say he would give me a
 
 154 MARRIAGE. 
 
 thousand pounds If I were to ask him, for he don't care 
 about money." 
 
 ** Lord Lindore takes the matter very coolly, I under- 
 stand," replied her husband ; " but — don't be alarmed, 
 dear Julia — your father has suffered a little from the 
 violence of his feelings. He has had a sort of apoplectic 
 fit, but is not considered in immediate danger." 
 
 Lady Juliana burst into tears, desired the carriage 
 might be put up, as she should not go out, and even 
 declared her intention of abstaining from Mrs D.'s 
 assembly that evening. Henry warmly commended 
 the extreme propriety of these measures ; and, not to 
 be outdone in greatness of mind, most heroically sent 
 an apology to a grand military dinner at the Duke of 
 
 Y 's ; observing, at the same time, that, in the 
 
 present state of the family, one or two friends to a quiet 
 family dinner was as much as they should be up to. 
 
 I but purpose to embark with thee 
 
 On the smooth surface of a summer sea, 
 While gentle zephyrs play in prosp'rous gales, 
 And Fortune's favour fills the swelling sails. 
 
 Henry and Emma, 
 
 HOW long these voluntary sacrifices to duty and 
 propriety might have been made, it would not 
 be difhcult to guess ; but Lady Juliana's ap- 
 proaching confinement rendered her seclusion more and 
 more a matter of necessity ; and, shortly after these 
 events took place, she presented her delighted husband 
 with a son. Henry lost no time in announcing the 
 birth of his child to General Cameron ; and, at the 
 same time, requesting he would stand godfather, and
 
 MARRIAGE. I55 
 
 give his name to the child. The answer was as 
 follows : — 
 
 Hort Lodge, Berks. 
 " Dear Henry, 
 
 " By this time twelvemonth, I hope it will be my 
 turn to communicate to you a similar event in my 
 family, to that which your letter announces to me. As 
 a preliminary step, I am just about to march into 
 quarters for life, with a young woman, daughter to my 
 steward. She is healthy, good-humoured, and of 
 course vulgar ; since she is no connoisseur in china, 
 and never spoke to a pug-dog in her life. 
 
 " Your allowance will be remitted regularly from my 
 banker until the day of my death ; you will then 
 succeed to ten thousand pounds, secured to your 
 children, which is all you have to expect from me. 
 If, after this, you think it worth your while, you are 
 very welcome to give your son the name of yours faith- 
 fully, William Cameron." 
 
 Henry's consternation at the contents of this epistle 
 was almost equalled by Juliana's indignation. The 
 daughter of a steward! — heavens! it made her sick to 
 think of it. It was too shocking ! The man ought 
 to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from dis- 
 gracing his connexions in such a manner. There ought 
 to be a law against old men marrying " 
 
 " And young ones too," groaned Douglas, as he 
 thought of the debts he had contracted on the faith and 
 credit of being the general's heir ; for, with all the 
 sanguine presumption of thoughtless youth and buoyant 
 spirits, Henry had no sooner found his fault forgiven, 
 than he immediately fancied it forgotten, and himself 
 completely restored to favour. His friends and the 
 world were of the same opinion ; and, as the future 
 possessor of immense wealth, he found noticing so easy
 
 156 MARRIAGE. 
 
 as to borrow money and contract debts, which he now 
 saw the impossibility of ever discharging. Still he 
 flattered himself the general might only mean to frighten 
 him ; or he might relent ; or the marriage might go off; 
 or he might not have any children ; and, with these 
 mighty hopes, things went on as usual for some time 
 longer. Lady Juliana, who, to do her justice, was not 
 of a more desponding character than her husband, had 
 also her stock of hopes and expectations always ready 
 to act upon. She was quite sure, that if papa ever 
 came to his senses (for he had remained in a state of 
 stupefaction since the apoplectic stroke), he would for- 
 give her, and take her to live with him, now that that 
 vile Lady Lindore was gone : or if he should never 
 recover, she was equally sure of benefiting by his death ; 
 for, though he had said he was not to leave her a 
 shilling, she did not believe it. She was sure papa 
 would never do anything so cruel ; and, at any rate, if 
 he did, Lindore was so generous, he would do some- 
 thing very handsome for her ; and so forth. 
 
 At length the bubbles burst. The same paper that 
 stated the marriage of General William Cameron to 
 Judith Broadcast, spinster, announced, in all the dignity 
 of woe, the death of that most revered nobleman and 
 eminent statesman, Augustus, Earl of Courtland. 
 
 In weak minds it has generally been remarked that 
 no medium can be maintained. Where hope holds her 
 dominion, she is too buoyant to be accompanied by her 
 anchor ; and between her and despair there are no 
 gradations. Desperate, indeed, now became the con- 
 dition of the misjudging pair. Lady Juliana's name 
 was not even mentioned in her father's will, and the 
 general's marriage rendered his settlements no longer a 
 secret. In all the horrors of desperation, Henry now 
 found himself daily beset by creditors of every descrip- 
 tion. At length the fatal blow came. Horses —
 
 MARRIAGE. I57 
 
 carriages — everything they could call their own, were 
 seized. The term for which they held the house was 
 expired, and they found themselves on the point of 
 being turned into the street ; when Lady Juliana, who 
 had been for two days, as her woman expressed it, out 
 of one Jit into another, suddenly recovered strength to 
 signify her desire of being conveyed to her brother's 
 house. A hackney coach was procured, into which the 
 hapless victim of her own follies was carried. Shudder- 
 ing with disgust, and accompanied by her children and 
 their attendants, she was set down at the noble mansion 
 from which she had fled two years before. 
 
 Her brother, whom she fortunately found at home, 
 lolling upon a sofa with a new novel in his hand, re- 
 ceived her without any marks of surprise ; said those 
 things happened every day ; hoped Captain Douglas 
 would contrive to get himself extricated from this slight 
 embarrassment ; and informed his sister that she was 
 welcome to occupy her old apartments, which had been 
 lately fitted up for Lady Lindore. Then, ringing the 
 bell, he desired the housekeeper might show Lady 
 Juliana up-stairs, and put the children in the nursery ; 
 mentioned that he generally dined at eight o'clock ; 
 and, nodding to his sister as she quitted the room, 
 returned to his book, as if nothing had occurred to 
 disturb him from it. 
 
 In ten minutes after her entrance into Courtland 
 House, Lady Juliana had made greater advances in 
 religion and philosophy than she had done in the whole 
 nineteen years of her life ; for she not only perceived 
 that " out of evil cometh good," but was perfectly 
 ready to admit that "all is for the best," and that 
 " whatever is, is right." 
 
 " How lucky is it for me," exclaimed she to herself, 
 as she surveyed the splendid suite of apartments that 
 were destined for her accommodation — " how very
 
 158 MARRIAGE. 
 
 fortunate that things have turned out as they have done ; 
 that Lady Lindore should have run off, and that the 
 general's marriage should have taken place just at the 
 time of poor papa's death " — and, in short, Lady Juliana 
 set no bounds to her self-gratulations, on the happy 
 turn of affairs which had brought about this change in 
 her situation. 
 
 To a heart not wholly devoid of feeling, and a mind 
 capable of any thing like reflection, the desolate appear- 
 ance of this magnificent mansion would have excited 
 emotions of a very different nature. The apartments 
 of the late earl, with their wide extended doors and 
 windows, sheeted furniture, and air of dreary order, 
 exhibited that waste and chilling aspect which marks 
 the chambers of death ; and even Lady Juliana shud- 
 dered, she knew not why, as she passed through them. 
 
 Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not less 
 striking, could her thoughtless successor have profited 
 by the lesson they offered. Here was all that the 
 most capricious fancy, the most boundless extravagance, 
 the most refined luxury, could wish for or suggest. 
 
 " I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her 
 heart to leave this delicious boudoir," observed Lady 
 Juliana to the old housekeeper. 
 
 " I rather wonder, my lady, how she could find in 
 her heart to leave these pretty babes," returned the good 
 woman, as a little boy came running into the room, 
 calling " mamma, mamma ! " Lady Juliana had no- 
 thing to say to children beyond a '* How d'ye do, 
 love ? " and the child, after regarding her for a moment 
 with a look of disappointment, ran away back to his 
 nursery. 
 
 When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in her 
 new apartments, and the tumult of delight began to 
 subside, it occurred to her that something must be done 
 for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands of a
 
 MARRIAGE. T59 
 
 brother officer, in a state little short of distraction. She 
 accordingly went in search of her brother, to request 
 his advice and assistance ; and found him, it being 
 nearly dark, preparing to set out on his morning's ride. 
 Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law, he 
 declared himself ready to assist Mr Douglas as far 
 as he was able, but he had just learned from his 
 people of business that his own affairs were somewhat 
 involved. The late earl had expended enormous sums 
 on political purposes — Lady Lindore had run through 
 a prodigious deal of money, he believed ; and he him- 
 self had some debts, amounting, he was told, to seventy 
 thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was all aghast at this 
 information, which was delivered with the most perfect 
 nonchalance by the earl, while he amused himself with 
 his Newfoundland dog. Unable to conceal her dis- 
 appointment at these effects of her brother's " liberality 
 and generosity," Lady Juliana burst into tears. 
 
 The earl's sensibility was akin to his generosity ; he 
 gave money (or rather allowed it to be taken) freely, 
 when he had it, from indolence and easiness of temper ; 
 he hated the sight of distress in any individual, because 
 it occasioned trouble, and was, in short, a bore. He 
 therefore made haste to relieve his sister's alarm, by 
 assuring her that these were mere trifles : that, as for 
 Douglas's affairs, he would order his agent to arrange 
 everything in his name — hoped to have the pleasure of 
 seeing him at dinner — recommended to his sister to 
 have some pheasant-pie for luncheon ; and, calling 
 Carlo, set out upon his ride. 
 
 However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified and 
 disappointed at learning the state of her brother's finances, 
 she began, by degrees, to extract the greatest consola- 
 tion from the comparative insignificance of her own 
 debts to those of the earl ; and accordingly, in high 
 spirits at this newly discovered and judicious source
 
 l6o MARRIAGE. 
 
 of comfort, she despatched the following note to her 
 husband : — 
 
 ** Dearest Henry, 
 ** I have been received in the kindest manner ima- 
 ginable by Frederick, and have been put in possession 
 of my old apartments, which are so much altered I 
 should never have known them. They were furnished 
 by Lady Lindore, who really has a divine taste. I 
 long to show you all the delights of this abode. Frederick 
 desired me to say that he expects to see you here at 
 dinner, and that he will take charge of paying all our 
 bills whenever he gets money. Only think of his 
 owing a hundred thousand pounds, besides all papa's 
 and Lady Lindore's debts ! I assure you I was 
 almost ashamed to tell him of ours, they sounded so 
 trifling ; but it is quite a relief to find other people so 
 much worse. Indeed, I always thought it quite 
 natural for us to run in debt, considering that we had 
 no money to pay anything, while Courtland, who is as 
 rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall expect you at 
 eight ; until when, adieu, m'to caro, 
 
 " Your Julie. 
 
 ** I am quite wretched about you 
 
 >> 
 
 This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not 
 the satisfaction of receiving, having been arrested, shortly 
 after his wife's departure, at the suit of Mr Shagg, 
 for the sum of two thousand some odd hundreds, 
 for carriages jobbed, bought, exchanged, repaired, re- 
 turned, &c. 
 
 Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at the news of her 
 husband's arrest was excessive. Her only ideas of con- 
 finement were taken from those pictures of the Bastille 
 and Inquisition that she had read so much of in French 
 and German novels ; and the idea of a prison was in-
 
 MARRIAGE. l6l 
 
 dissolubly united in her mind with bread and water, 
 chains and straw, dungeons and darkness. Callous and 
 selfish, therefore, as she might be, she was not yet so 
 wholly void of all natural feeling as to think with in- 
 difference of the man she had once fondly loved reduced 
 to such a pitiable condition. 
 
 Almost frantic at the phantom of her own creation, 
 she flew to her brother's apartment, and, in the wildest 
 and most incoherent manner, besought him to rescue her 
 poor Henry from chains and a dungeon. 
 
 With some difficulty Lord Courtland at length ap- 
 prehended the extent of his brother-in-law's mis- 
 fortune ; and, with his usual sang froid, smiled at his 
 sister's simplicity, assured her the King's Bench was 
 the pleasantest place in the world ; that some of his 
 own most particular friends were there, who gave capital 
 dinners, and led the most desirable lives imaginable. 
 
 " And will he really not be fed on bread and water, 
 and wear chains, and sleep upon straw ? " asked the 
 tender wife, in the utmost surprise and delight. " Oh, 
 then, he is not so much to be pitied ; though I dare 
 say he would rather get out of prison, too." 
 
 The earl promised to obtain his release the following 
 day ; and Lady Juliana returned to her toilette, with 
 a much higher opinion of prisons than she had ever 
 entertained before. 
 
 Lord Courtland, for once in his life, was punctual to 
 his promise ; and even interested himself so thoroughly 
 in Douglas's affairs, though without inquiring into any 
 particulars, as to take upon himself the discharge of his 
 debts, and to procure leave for him to exchange into a 
 regiment of the line, then under orders for India. 
 
 Upon hearing of this arrangement. Lady Juliana's 
 grief and despair, as usual, set all reason at defiance. 
 She would not suffer her dear, dear Harry, to leave 
 her. She knew she could not live without him — she 
 
 1. L
 
 1 62 MARRIAGE. 
 
 was sure she should die ; and Harry would be sea-sick, 
 and grow so yellow and so ugly, that, when he came 
 back, she should never have any comfort in him again. 
 
 Henry, who had never doubted her readiness to ac- 
 company him, immediately hastened to assuage her 
 anguish, by assuring her that it had always been his 
 intention to take her along with him. 
 
 That was worse and worse : — she wondered how he 
 could be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her 
 leaving all her friends, and going to live amongst 
 savages. She had done a great deal in living so long 
 contentedly with him in Scotland ; but she never could, 
 nor would, make such another sacrifice. Besides, she 
 was sure poor Courtland could not do without her ; she 
 knew he never would marry again ; and who would 
 take care of his dear children, and educate them pro- 
 perly, if she did not ? It would be too ungrateful to 
 desert Frederick, after all he had done for them. 
 
 The pride of the man, as much as the affection of 
 the husband, was irritated by this resistance to his will ; 
 and a violent scene of reproach and recrimination ter- 
 minated in an eternal farewell. 
 
 In age, in infancy, from others' aid 
 Is all our hope ; to teach us to be kind, 
 That nature's first, last lesson. 
 
 Young. 
 
 THE neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas 
 experienced all the advantages naturally to be 
 expected from her change of situation. Her 
 watchful aunt superintended the years of her infancy, 
 and all that a tender and judicious mother cou/d do —
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 63 
 
 all that most mothers think they do — she performed. 
 Mrs Douglas, though not a woman either of words or 
 systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart warm 
 with benevolence towards every thing that had a being ; 
 and all the best feelings of her nature were excited by 
 the little outcast, thus abandoned by her unnatural 
 parent. As she pressed the unconscious babe to her 
 bosom, she thought how blest she should have been, 
 had a child of her own thus filled her arms ; but the 
 reflection called forth no selfish murmurs from her 
 chastened spirit. While the tear of soft regret trembled 
 in her eye, that eye was yet raised in gratitude to 
 Heaven for having called forth those delightful affec- 
 tions which might otherwise have slumbered in her 
 heart. 
 
 Mrs Douglas had read much, and reflected more ; 
 and many faultless theories of education had floated in 
 her mind. But her good sense soon discovered how 
 unavailing all theories were whose foundations rested 
 upon the inferred wisdom of the teacher ; and how 
 intricate and unwieldy must be the machinery for the 
 human mind where the human hand alone is to guide 
 and uphold it. To engraft into her infant soul the 
 purest principles of religion, was therefore the chief aim 
 of Mary's preceptress. The fear of God was the only 
 restraint imposed upon her dawning intellect ; and from 
 the Bible alone was she taught the duties of morality — 
 not in the form of a dry code of laws, to be read with 
 a solemn face on Sundays, or learned with weeping 
 eyes as a week-day task — but, in lowly imitation of her 
 Divine Master, adapted to her youthful capacity by 
 judicious illustration, and familiarised to her taste by 
 hearing its stories and precepts from the lips she best 
 loved. Even as He, — 
 
 " Wiser by far than all the sons of men, 
 Yet teaching ignorance in simple speech,
 
 164 MARRIAGE. 
 
 As thou would'st take an infant in thy lap 
 And lesson him with his own artless tale," — 
 
 Mrs Douglas was the friend and confidant ot her pupil : 
 to her all her hopes and fears, wishes and dreads, were 
 confided ; and the first effort of her reason was the 
 discovery, that, to please her aunt, she must study to 
 please her Maker. 
 
 *^ L'mutilite de la vie des femmes, est la premier source 
 de leurs desordres,^^ 
 
 Mrs Douglas was fully convinced of the truth of 
 this observation, and that the mere selfish cares and 
 vulgar bustle of life are not sufficient to satisfy the 
 immortal soul, however they may serve to engross it. 
 
 A portion of Mary's time was therefore devoted to 
 the daily practice of the great duties of life ; in ad- 
 ministering, in some shape or other, to the wants and 
 misfortunes of, her fellow-creatures, without requiring 
 from them that their virtue should have been im- 
 maculate, or expecting that their gratitude should be 
 everlasting. 
 
 " It is better," thought Mrs Douglas, " that we 
 should sometimes be deceived by others, than that we 
 should learn to deceive ourselves ; and the charity and 
 good-will that is suffered to lie dormant, or feed itself 
 on speculative acts of beneficence, for want of proper 
 objects to call it into use, will soon become the cor- 
 roding rust that will destroy the best feelings of our 
 nature." 
 
 In the family of her nurse Mary took a warm interest, 
 but more especially in the welfare of her foster-brother, 
 who — whether from having been robbed of his infant 
 dues on her account, or from whatever cause — had been 
 always a puny delicate child, altogether unlike the hardy 
 mountain race from which he had sprung. Indeed, in- 
 dependent of the claim of fostership, little Angus was 
 an interesting boy. His features and complexion were
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 65 
 
 of that delicate kind which usually accompany hair of a 
 pale golden or reddish cast, and his light-blue eyes were 
 expressive of thought and sweetness beyond his years 
 and station. Mary had herself taught him to read : 
 with her first pocket-money she had bought a Bible for 
 him, and all she learnt herself of its heavenly lore was 
 treasured up and communicated to Angus, v/ho, on his 
 part, was never so happy as in listening to his dear 
 young mistress, or in repeating to her some portion of 
 Scripture, or psalm, or simple paraphrase, which he had 
 committed to memory. But, as the young spirit's light 
 increased, the bodily strength diminished, notwithstand- 
 ing all that care and kindness could do. Angus gradually 
 grew paler, and thinner, and weaker ; but, so gently was 
 life ebbing away, none deemed that death was so near. 
 
 A succession of wet stormy days had prevented Mary 
 from visiting her protege for a longer period than usual ; 
 but as soon as she could venture abroad, she hastened 
 with her little basket of good things to the cottage of 
 the M'Kinnons. 
 
 She v/as met by her nurse outside the door of the 
 cabin, who told her, with tears, that Angus had kept 
 his bed for two days ; that he had not taken food and 
 scarcely spoken, except to ask for his young mistress, 
 that he might repeat to her a hymn he had learnt ; and 
 he had made his mother promise, that even if he should 
 be asleep when she came, she was to waken him. 
 
 Mary entered, and advanced to the bed where the 
 boy lay with his eyes closed. " I am come at last, dear 
 Angus," said she, taking the little emaciated hand that 
 lay on his breast ; " how are you to-day ? " 
 
 At the sound of her voice, a faint smile shone on his 
 face, and he half opened his sweet, but now filmy, eyes 
 as he softly whispered, " Dinna waken me, Pm ga'en 
 hame ; " then closed them as in sleep.* 
 
 * A real incident.
 
 1 66 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " He has fallen asleep," said Mary in a low voice to 
 his mother, as she glided away on tiptoe ; " do not 
 disturb him, and I dare say he will be better when he 
 awakes." But Angus awoke no more in this world ; 
 he had indeed gone to a happy, an eternal home ! 
 
 How calmly sinks that child to rest ! 
 How tranquil is his little breast! 
 Of such the Saviour's kingdom 's made, — 
 He knew it when he meekly said, 
 
 " I'm going home I " 
 
 And where is home ? oh, tell me where, 
 And lead my weary footsteps there : — 
 Home is with God — it is in Heaven — 
 Yet here to man is kindly given 
 
 A type — a mystic home. 
 
 It is a sweet, a peaceful rest ; 
 The Christian finds it in his breast 
 When Faith, and Love, and Hope unite 
 With holy thoughts and life upright: 
 
 Oh, seek and find that home ! 
 
 But how shall I that home attain ? 
 Not of myself — the thought were vain ; 
 Fast bound with earthly ties and cares, 
 My own vain heart and Satan's snares, 
 
 I seek — but find no home ! 
 
 Thy Saviour's love the gift bestows. 
 Thy thraldom well the Saviour knows ; 
 Go — in thy bonds to him complain, 
 Ask — and he'll break the galling chain. 
 
 And lead thee gently home. 
 
 And may the boon to me be given, 
 A home on earth — a type of heaven ; 
 Then Faith, and Hope, and Love be mine, — 
 Ah, no ! my Saviour, all are thine : 
 
 Lord, take thy wanderer home !
 
 MARRIAGE. 167 
 
 Lord ! when my dying hour is near, 
 And weeping friends would keep me here, 
 Let theirs and mine this solace be, — 
 That none can die who live to Thee : 
 
 Death is but going home ! 
 
 -O 
 
 Cl)apter %%^^ 
 
 Not but the human fabric from the birth 
 Imbibes a flavour of its parent earth ; 
 As various tracts enforce a various toil, 
 The manners speak the idiom of their soil. 
 
 Gray. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Mary strenuously applied herself to 
 the uses of life, its embellishments were by no 
 means neglected. She was happily endowed by 
 nature ; and, under the judicious management of her 
 aunt, made rapid though unostentatious progress in the 
 improvement of the talents committed to her care. 
 Without having been blessed with the advantages of a 
 dancing-master, her step was light, and her motions free 
 and graceful ; and if her aunt had not been able to 
 impart to her the favourite graces of the most fashionable 
 singer of the day, neither had she thwarted the efforts of 
 her own natural taste in forming a style full of simplicity 
 and feeling. In the modern languages she was perfectly 
 skilled ; and if her drawings wanted the enlivening 
 touches of the master to give them effect, as an atone- 
 ment they displayed a perfect knowledge of the rules of 
 perspective, and the study of the bust. 
 
 All this was, however, mere leather and prunella to 
 the ladies of Glenfern ; and many were the cogitations 
 and consultations that took place on the subject of 
 Mary's mismanagement. According to their ideas', 
 there could be but one good system of education ; and
 
 1 68 MARRIAGE. 
 
 that was the one that had been pursued with them, and 
 through them transmitted to their nieces. 
 
 To attend the parish church, and remember the text ; 
 to observe who was there, and who was not there ; and 
 to wind up the evening with a sermon stuttered and 
 stammered through by one of the girls (the worst reader 
 always piously selected, for the purpose of improving 
 their reading), and particularly addressed to the laird, 
 openly and avowedly snoring in his arm chair, though 
 at every pause starting up with a peevish " Weel ? " — 
 this was the sum total of their religious duties. Their 
 moral virtues were much upon the same scale : to knit 
 stockings, scold servants, cement china, trim bonnets, 
 lecture the poor, and look up to Lady Maclaughlan, 
 comprised nearly their whole code. But these were 
 the virtues of ripened years and enlarged understandings ; 
 what their pupils might hope to arrive at, but could not 
 presume to meddle with. Their meritsS consisted in 
 being compelled to sew certain large portions of white 
 work ; learning to read and write in the worst manner ; 
 occasionally wearing a collar ; and learning the notes on 
 the spinnet. These acquirements, accompanied with a 
 great deal of lecturing and fault-finding, sufficed for the 
 first fifteen years ; when the two next, passed at a pro- 
 vincial boarding-school, were supposed to impart every 
 graceful accomplishment to which women could attain. 
 
 Mrs Douglas's method of conveying instruction, it 
 may easily be imagined, did not square with their ideas 
 on that subject. They did nothing themselves without 
 a bustle ; and to do a thing quietly, was to them the 
 same as not doing it at all — it could not be done, for 
 nobody had ever heard of it. In short, like many other 
 worthy people, their ears were their only organs of 
 intelligence : they believed everything they were told ; 
 but, unless they were told, they believed nothing. They 
 had never heard Mrs Douglas expatiate on the import-
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 69 
 
 ance of the trust reposed in her, or enlarge on the 
 difficulties of female education ; ergo, Mrs Douglas 
 could have no idea of the nature of the duties she had 
 undertaken. 
 
 Their visits to Lochmarlie only served to confirm 
 the fact. Miss Jacky deponed, that, during the month 
 she was there, she never could discover when or how it 
 was that Mary got her lessons : luckily the child was 
 quick, and had contrived, poor thing ! to pick up things 
 wonderfully, nobody knew how, for it was really 
 astonishing to see how little pains were bestowed upon 
 her ; and the worst of it was, that she seemed to do 
 just as she liked, for nobody ever heard her reproved, 
 and every body knew that young people never could 
 have enough said to them. All this differed widely 
 from the eclat of their system, and could not fail of 
 causing great disquiet to the sisters. 
 
 " I declare, I'm quite confounded at all this ! " said 
 Miss Grizzy, at the conclusion of Miss Jacky's com- 
 munication. " It really appears as if Mary, poor thing ! 
 was getting no education at all ; and yet she can do 
 things, too. I can't understand it ! And it's very odd 
 in Mrs Douglas to allow her to be so much neglected, for 
 certainly Mary's constantly with herself; which, to be 
 sure, shows that she is very much spoilt — nobody can 
 dispute that ! for although our girls are as fond of us as, 
 I am sure, any creatures can be, yet, at the same time, 
 they are always very glad — which is quite natural — to 
 get away from us." 
 
 " I think it's high time Mary had done something 
 fit to be seen," said Miss Nicky. " She is now 
 sixteen, past." 
 
 " Most girls of Mary's time of life, that ever / had 
 any thing to do with," replied Jacky, with a certain 
 wave of the head, peculiar to sensible women, " had 
 something to show before her age. Bella had worked
 
 lyo MARRIAGE. 
 
 the globe long before she was sixteen ; and Babby did 
 her filigree tea-caddy the first quarter she was at Miss 
 Macgowk's," glancing with triumph from the one 
 which hung in a gilt frame over the mantelpiece, to 
 the other which stood on the tea-table, shrouded in a 
 green bag. 
 
 " And, to be sure," rejoined Grizzy, ** although 
 Betsy's skreen did cost a great deal of money — that 
 can't be denied ; and her father certainly grudged it 
 very much at the time — there's no doubt of that ; yet 
 certainly it does her the greatest credit, and is a great 
 satisfaction to us all to have these things to show. I 
 am sure nobody would ever think that ass was made of 
 crape ; and how naturally it seems to be eating the 
 beautiful chenille thistle ! I declare, I think the ass 
 is as like an ass as any thing can be ! " 
 
 " And as to Mary's drawing," continued the narrator 
 of her deficiencies, " there is not one of them fit for 
 framing ; mere scratches with a chalk pencil — what any 
 child might do." 
 
 ** And to think," said Nicky, with indignation, " how 
 little Mrs Douglas seemed to think of the handsome 
 coloured views of Inverary and Dunkeld the girls did 
 at Miss Macgowk's ! " 
 
 ** All our girls have the greatest genius for drawing," 
 observed Grizzy ; " there can be no doubt of that ; but 
 it's a thousand pities, I'm sure, that none of them seem 
 to like it. To be sure, they say — what I dare say is 
 very true — that they can't get such good paper as they 
 got at Miss Macgowk's ; but they have showed that 
 they can do, for their drawings are quite astonishing. 
 Somebody lately took them to be Mr Touchup's own 
 doing ; and I'm sure there couldn't be a greater com- 
 pliment than that 1 I represented all that to Mrs 
 Douglas, and urged her very strongly to give Mary 
 the benefit of at least a quarter of Miss Macgowk's,
 
 MARRIAGE. I71 
 
 were it only for the sake of her carriage ; or, at least, 
 to make her wear our collar." 
 
 This was the tenderest of all themes, and bursts of 
 sorrowful exclamations ensued. The collar had long 
 been a galling yoke upon their minds ; its iron had 
 entered into their very souls ; for it was a collar pre- 
 sented to the family of Glenfern by the wisest, 
 virtuousest, best of women and of grandmothers, the 
 good Lady Girnachgowl; and had been worn in regular 
 rotation by every female of the family, till now, that 
 Mrs Douglas positively refused to subject Mary's pliant 
 form to its thraldom. Even the laird, albeit no con- 
 noisseur in any shapes save those of his kine, was of 
 opinion, that, since the thing was in the house, it was 
 a pity it should be lost. Not Venus's girdle ever was 
 supposed to confer greater charms than the Girnachgowl 
 collar. 
 
 " It's really most distressing ! " said Miss Grizzy to 
 her friend, Lady Maclaughlan. " Mary's back won't 
 be worth a farthing ; and we have always been quite 
 famous for our backs." 
 
 " Humph ! — that's the reason people are always so 
 glad to see them, child." 
 
 With regard to Mary's looks, opinions were not so 
 decided. Mr Douglas thought her, what she was, an 
 elegant, interesting-looking girl. The laird, as he 
 peered at her over his spectacles, pronounced her to be 
 but a shilpit thing, though weel aneugh, considering the 
 ne'er-do-weels that were aught her. Miss Jacky opined, 
 that she would have been quite a different creature had 
 she been brought up like any other girl. Miss Grizzy 
 did not know what to think ; she certainly was pretty 
 — nobody could dispute that : at the same time, many 
 people would prefer Bella's looks ; and Babby was ' 
 certainly uncommonly comely. Miss Nicky thought it 
 was no wonder she looked pale sometimes : she never
 
 172 MARRIAGE. 
 
 supped her broth in a wise-like way at dinner ; and it 
 was a shame to hear of a girl of Mary's age being set up 
 with tea to her breakfast, and wearing white petticoats 
 in winter — and such roads, too ! 
 
 Lady Maclaughlan pronounced (and that was next 
 to a special revelation) that the girl would be handsome 
 when she was forty, not a day sooner ; and she would 
 be clever, for her mother was a fool ; and foolish 
 mothers had always wise children, and vice versa, 
 " and your mother was a very clever woman, girls — 
 humph ! " 
 
 Thus passed the early years of the almost forgotten 
 twin ; blest in the warm affection and mild authority of 
 her more than mother. Sometimes Mrs Douglas half- 
 formed the wish that her beloved pupil should mix in 
 society, and become known to the world ; but when 
 she reflected on the dangers of that world, and on the 
 little solid happiness its pleasures afford, she repressed 
 the wish, and only prayed she might be allowed to 
 rest secure in the simple pleasures she then enjoyed. 
 ** Happiness is not a plant of this earth," said she to 
 herself with a sigh ; " but God gives peace and tran- 
 quillity to the virtuous in all situations, and under every 
 trial. Let me, then, strive to make Mary virtuous, and 
 leave the rest to Him who alone knoweth what is good 
 for us 1 "
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 73 
 
 Cl)apter %%^H^ 
 
 Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns, 
 
 The fortune of the family remains, 
 
 And grandsires' grandsons the long list contains, 
 
 Dryden's Firgll 
 
 We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made of ; and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. 
 
 Tempest. 
 
 BUT Mary's back, and Mary's complexion, now 
 ceased to be the first objects of interest at Glen- 
 fern ; for, to the inexpressible delight and 
 amazement of the sisters, Mrs Douglas, after due warn- 
 ing, became the mother of a son. How this event had 
 been brought about without the prescience of Lady 
 Maclaughlan, was past the powers of Miss Grizzy's 
 comprehension. To the last moment, they had been 
 sceptical ; for Lady Maclaughlan had shook her head 
 and humphed whenever the subject was mentioned. 
 For several months they had therefore vibrated between 
 their own sanguine hopes and their oracle's dishearten- 
 ing doubt ; and, even when the truth was manifest, a 
 sort of vague tremor took possession of their minds as 
 to what Lady Maclaughlan would think of it. 
 
 " I declare I don't very well know how to announce 
 this happy event to Lady Maclaughlan," said Miss 
 Grizzy, as she sat in a ruminating posture, with her pen 
 in her hand. " It will give her the greatest pleasure, 
 I know that ; she has such a regard for our family, she 
 would go any lengths for us. At the same time, every 
 body must be sensible it is a delicate matter to tell a 
 person of Lady Maclaughlan's skill they have been mis- 
 taken. I'm sure I don't know how she may take it ; 
 and yet she can't suppose it will make any difference in
 
 1 74 MARRIAGE. 
 
 our sentiments for her. She must be sensible we have 
 all the greatest respect for her opinion — there can be no 
 doubt about that." 
 
 " The wisest people are sometimes mistaken," ob- 
 served Miss Jacky. 
 
 " I'm sure, Jacky, that's very true," said Grizzy, 
 brightening up at the brilliancy of this remark — 
 " nobody can deny that." 
 
 ** And it's better she should have been mistaken than 
 Mrs Douglas," followed up Miss Nicky. 
 
 " I declare, Nicky, you are perfectly right ; and I 
 shall just say so at once to Lady Maclaughlan." 
 
 The epistle was forthwith commenced by the en- 
 lightened Grizelda. Miss Joan applied herself to the 
 study of " Letters to a Young Man on his Entrance into 
 Life," which she was determined to make herself mis- 
 tress of for the benefit of her grand-nephew ; and Miss 
 Nicholas fell to reckoning all who could, would, or 
 should be at the christening, that she might calculate 
 upon the quantity of dreaming^bread that would be re- 
 quired. The younger ladies were busily engaged in 
 divers and sundry disputes regarding the right of suc- 
 cession to a once-white lutestring negligee of their 
 mother's, which three of them had laid their accounts 
 with figuring in at the approaching celebration. The old 
 gentleman was the only one in the family who par- 
 took not in the least of the general happiness. He had 
 got into a habit of being fretted about every thing that 
 happened, and he could not entirely divest himself of 
 it even upon this occasion. His parsimonious turn, too, 
 had considerably increased ; and his only criterion of 
 judging of any thing was according to what it would 
 bring. 
 
 " Sorra tak me, if one wadna think this was the first 
 bairn that ever was born ! What's a' the fraize aboot, 
 ye gowks ? (to his daughters) — a whingin' brat ! that'll
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 75 
 
 tak mair out o' fowks' pockets than e'er it'll put into 
 them ! Mony a guid profitable beast's been brought 
 into the warld, and ne'er a word in its head." 
 
 All went on smoothly. Lady Maclaughlan testified 
 no resentment. Miss Jacky had a complete system of 
 manly education all ready at her finger-ends ; and Miss 
 Nicky was more serene than could have been expected, 
 considering, as she did, how the servants at Lochmarlie 
 must be living at hack and manger. It had been de- 
 cided at Glenfern that the infant heir to its consequence 
 could not with propriety be christened anywhere but at 
 the seat of his forefathers. Mr and Mrs Douglas had 
 good-humouredly yielded the point ! and, as soon as she 
 was able for the change, the whole family took up their 
 residence for a season under the paternal roof. 
 
 Blissful visions floated around the pillows of the 
 happy spinsters the night preceding the christening, which 
 were duly detailed at the breakfast-table the following 
 morning. 
 
 " I declare I don't know what to think of my dream," 
 began Miss Grizzy. " I dreamt that Lady Maclaugh- 
 lan was upon her knees to you, brother, to get you to 
 take an emetic ; and, just as she had mixed it up so 
 nicely in some of our black-currant jelly, little Norman 
 snatched it out of your hand, and ran away with 
 it." 
 
 " You're enough to turn ony body's stamick wi' your 
 nonsense," returned the laird gruffly. 
 
 " And I," said Miss Jacky, " thought I saw you 
 standing in your shirt, brother, as straight as a rash, and 
 good Lady Girnachgowl buckling her collar round you 
 with her own hands." 
 
 " I wish ye wad na deive me wi' your havers ! " still 
 more indignantly, and turning his shoulder to the fair 
 dreamer, as he continued to con over the newspaper. 
 
 " And I," cried Miss Nicky, eager to get her mystic
 
 176 MARRIAGE. 
 
 tale disclosed, " I thought, brother, I saw you take and 
 throw all the good dreaming-bread into the ash-hole." 
 
 " By my troth, an' ye deserve to be thrown after't ! " 
 exclaimed the exasperated laird, as he quitted the room 
 in high wrath, muttering to himself, " Hard case — canna 
 get peace — eat my vittals — fules — tawpies — clavers ! " 
 &c., &c. 
 
 " I declare I can't conceive why Glenfern should be 
 so ill-pleased at our dreams," said Miss Grizzy. " Every 
 body knows dreams are always contrary, — nobody can 
 dispute that ; and, even were it otherwise, Fm sure I 
 should think no shame to take an emetic, especially when 
 Lady Maclaughlan was at the trouble of mixing it up so 
 nicely." 
 
 " And we have all worn good Lady Girnachgowrs 
 collar before now," said Miss Jacky. 
 
 " I think T had the worst of it, that had all my good 
 dreaming-bread destroyed," added Miss Nicky. 
 
 " Nothing could be more natural than your dreams," 
 said Mrs Douglas, " considering how all these subjects 
 have engrossed you for some time past. You, aunt 
 Grizzy, may remember how desirous you were of ad- 
 ministering one of Lady Maclaughlan's powders to my 
 little boy yesterday ; and you, aunt Jacky, made a point 
 of trying Lady Girnachgowl's collar upon Mary, to 
 convince her how pleasant it was ; while you, aunt 
 Nicky, had experienced a great alarm in supposing your 
 cake had been burned in the oven. And these being 
 the most vivid impressions you had received during the 
 day, it was perfectly natural that they should have re- 
 tained their influence during a portion of the night." 
 
 The interpretations were received with high disdain. 
 One and all declared they never dreamed of any thing 
 that had occurred ; and therefore the visions of the 
 night portended some extraordinary good-fortune to the 
 fiimily in general, and to little Norman in particular.
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 77 
 
 " The best fortune I can wish for him, and all of us, 
 for this day, is, that he should remain quiet during the 
 ceremony,'* said his mother, who was not so elated as 
 Lady Macbeth at the predictions of the sisters. 
 
 The christening party mustered strong ; and the rites 
 of baptism were duly performed by the Rev. Duncan 
 M'Drone. The little Christian had been kissed by 
 every lady in company, and pronounced by the matrons 
 to be " a dainty little fellow ! " and by the misses to 
 be " the sweetest lamb they had ever seen ! " The 
 cake and wine was in its progress round the company ; 
 when, upon its being tendered to the old gentleman, 
 who was sitting silent in his arm-chair, he abruptly ex- 
 claimed, in a most discordant voice, " Hey ! what's a' 
 this wastery for ? " — and, ere an answer could be re- 
 turned, his jaw dropped, his eyes fixed, and the laird 
 of Glenfern ceased to breathe ! 
 
 Cl)apter %%f)iij* 
 
 They say miracles are past ; and we have our philosophical 
 persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and 
 causeless. Hence it is, that we make trifles of terrors : en- 
 sconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should 
 submit ourselves to an unknown fear. 
 
 AIPs Well that Ends Well. 
 
 ALL attempts to reanimate the lifeless form proved 
 unavailing ; and the horror and consternation 
 that reigned in the castle of Glenfern may be 
 imagined, but cannot be described. There is perhaps 
 no feeling of our nature so vague, so complicated, so 
 mysterious, as that with which we look upon the cold 
 remains of our fellow-mortals. The dignity with which 
 death invests even the meanest of his victims, inspires 
 us with an awe no living thing can create. The 
 
 I. M
 
 178 MARRIAGE. 
 
 monarch on his throne is less awful than the beggar in 
 his shroud. The marble features — the powerless hand 
 — the stiffened limbs — oh ! who can contemplate these 
 with feelings that can be defined ? These are the 
 mockery of all our hopes and fears, our fondest love, 
 our fellest hate. Can it be, that we now shrink with 
 horror from the touch of that hand which but yesterday 
 was fondly clasped in our own ? Is that tongue, whose 
 accents even now dwell in our ear, for ever chained in 
 the silence of death ? These black and heavy eyelids, 
 are they for ever to seal up in darkness the eyes whose 
 glance no earthly power could restrain ? And the 
 spirit which animated the clay, where is it now ? Is it 
 rapt in bliss, or dissolved in woe ? Does it witness our 
 grief, and share our sorrows ? or is the mysterious tie 
 that linked it with mortality for ever broken ? and the 
 remembrance of earthly scenes, are they indeed to the 
 enfranchised spirit as the morning dream, or the dew 
 upon the early flower ? Reflections such as these 
 naturally arise in every breast. Their influence is felt, 
 though their import cannot always be expressed. The 
 principle is in all the same, however it may differ in its 
 operations. 
 
 In the family assembled round the lifeless form that 
 had so long been the centre of their domestic circle, 
 grief showed itself under various forms. The calm and 
 manly sorrow of the son ; the saint-like feelings of his 
 wife ; the youthful agitation of Mary ; the weak super- 
 stitious wailings of the sisters ; and the loud uncontrolled 
 lamentations of the daughters ; — all betokened an inten- 
 sity of suffering, that arose from the same source, varied 
 according to the different channels in which it flowed. 
 Even the stern Lady Maclaughlan was subdued to 
 something of kindred feeling ; and, though no tears 
 dropped from her eyes, she sat by her friends, and 
 sought, in her own way, to soften their affliction.
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 79 
 
 The assembled guests, who had not yet been able to 
 take their departure, remained in the drawing-room in a 
 sort of restless solemnity, peculiar to seasons of collateral 
 affliction, where all seek to heighten the effect upon 
 others, and shift the lesson from themselves. Various 
 were the surmises and speculations as to the cause of the 
 awful transition that had just taken place. 
 
 " Glenfern was not like a man that would have gaen 
 off in this way," said one. 
 
 " I dinna ken," said another ; " I've noticed a chainge 
 on Glenfern for a good while now." 
 
 " I agree with you, sir," said a third : " in my mind, 
 Glenfern's been droopin' very much ever since the 
 last tryst." 
 
 " At Glenfern's time o' life, it's no surprisin'," 
 remarked a fourth, who felt perfectly secure of being 
 fifteen years his junior. 
 
 ** Glenfern wasna that auld, neither," retorted a fifth, 
 whose conscience smote him with being several years 
 his senior. 
 
 " But he had a deal of vexation from his family," 
 said an elderly bachelor. 
 
 " Ye often see a hale stout man, like our poor friend, 
 go like the snuff of a candle," coughed up a phthisicky 
 gentleman. 
 
 " He was aye a tume, boss-lookin' man, ever since I 
 mind him," wheezed out a swoln asthmatic figure. 
 
 " An' he took no care of himself," said the laird of 
 Pettlechass. " His diet was not what it should have been 
 at his time of life. An' he was out an' in, up an' down, 
 in a' weathers, wet an' dry." 
 
 " Glenfern's doings had nothing to do wi' his death," 
 said an ancient gentlewoman, with solemnity. " They 
 must be strangers here who never heard the bod-word of 
 the family." And she repeated, in Gaelic, words to 
 the following effect : —
 
 I So MARRIAGE. 
 
 " When Lochdow shall turn to a Hn,* 
 In Glenfern ye'U hear the din ; 
 When frae Benmore they shool the sna', 
 O'er Glenfern the leaves will fa'; 
 When foreign geer grows on Benmore tap, 
 Then the fir-tree will be Glenfern's hap." 
 
 (( 
 
 And now, ma'am, will ye be so good as point out 
 the meanin' of this freet,'* said an incredulous-looking 
 member of the company ; " for when I passed Lochdow 
 this morning, I neither saw nor heard of a lin ; an' frae 
 this window we can a' see Benmore wi' his white night- 
 cap on ; an' he would hae little to do that would try to 
 shool it aff." 
 
 ** It was neither of the still water nor the stay brae 
 that the word was spoken," said the old lady solemnly ; 
 " they take no part in our doings : but knew you not 
 that Lochdow himself had lost his sight by cataract ? 
 and is not there dule and din enough in Glenfern to-day ? 
 And who has not heard that Benmore has had his white 
 locks shaven, and that he has got a fine brown wig 
 instead ; and I'll warrant he'll have that on his old grey 
 head the day that Glenfern's laid in his deal coffin." 
 
 The company admitted the application was too close 
 to be resisted ; but the same sceptic (who, by the by, 
 was only a low-country merchant, elevated by purchase 
 to the dignity of a Highland laird) was seen to shrug 
 his shoulders, and heard to make some sneering remarks 
 on the days of second-sights, and such superstitious 
 nonsense, being past. This was instantly laid hold of; 
 and, amongst many others of the same sort, the truth ot 
 the following story was attested by one of the party, 
 as having actually occurred in his family within his own 
 remembrance : — 
 
 "As Duncan M*Crae was one evening descending 
 Benvoilloich, he perceived a funeral procession in the 
 
 * Cataract.
 
 MARRIAGE. l8l 
 
 vale beneath. He was greatly surprised, not having 
 heard of any death in the country ; and this appeared to 
 be the burial of some person of consequence, from the 
 number of the attendants. He made all the haste he 
 could to get down ; and, as he drew near, he counted 
 all the lairds of the country except my father, Sir 
 Murdoch. He was astonished at this, till he recol- 
 lected that he was away to the low country to his 
 cousin's marriage ; but he felt curious to know who it 
 was, though some unaccountable feeling prevented him 
 from mixing with the followers. He therefore kept on 
 the ridge of the hill, right over their heads, and near 
 enough to hear them speak ; but, although he saw them 
 move their lips, no sound reached his ear. He kept 
 along with the procession in this way, till it reached 
 the Castle Dochart burying-ground, and there it stopped. 
 The evening was close and warm, and a thick mist had 
 gathered in the glen, while the tops of the hills shone 
 like gold. Not a breath of air was stirring ; but the 
 trees that grew round the burying-ground waved and 
 soughed, and some withered leaves were swirled round 
 and round as if by the wind. The company stood 
 awhile to rest, and then they proceeded to open the 
 iron gates of the burying-ground ; but the lock was 
 rusted, and would not open. Then they began to pull 
 down part of the wall ; and Duncan thought how angry 
 his master would be at this, and he raised his voice, and 
 shouted, and hallooed to them, but to no purpose. No- 
 body seemed to hear him. At last the wall was taken 
 down, and the coffin was lifted over, and just then the 
 sun broke out, and glinted on a new-made grave ; and 
 as they were laying the coffin in it, it gave way, and 
 disclosed Sir Murdoch himself in his dead clothes ; and 
 then the mist grew so thick, Duncan could see no more^ 
 and how to get home he knew not ; but when he entered 
 his own door he was bathed in sweat, and white as any
 
 l82 MARRIAGE. 
 
 corpse ; and all that he could say was, that he had seen 
 Castle Dochart's burying. 
 
 " The following day," continued the narrator, " he 
 was more composed, and gave the account you have now 
 heard ; and three days after came the intelligence of my 
 father's death. He had dropped down in a fit that very 
 evening, when entertaining a large company in honour 
 of his cousin's marriage ; and that day week his funeral 
 passed through Glenvalloch exactly as described by 
 Duncan M'Crae, with all the particulars : the gates of 
 the bui"ying-ground could not be opened ; part of the 
 wall was taken down to admit the coffin, which re- 
 ceived some injury, and gave way as they were placing 
 it in the grave." 
 
 Even the low-country infidel was silenced by the 
 solemnity of this story ; and soon after the company 
 dispersed, every one panting to be the first to circulate 
 the intelligence of Glenfern's death. 
 
 But soon — oh, hoiu soon ! — " dies in human hearts 
 the thought of death ! " Even the paltry detail which 
 death creates, serves to detach our minds from the cause 
 itself. So it was with the family of Glenfern. Their 
 light did not " shine inward ; " and, after the first burst 
 of sorrow, their ideas fastened with avidity on all the 
 paraphernalia of affliction. Mr Douglas, indeed, found 
 much to do, and to direct to be done. The elder ladies 
 began to calculate how many yards of broad hemming 
 and crimped crape would be required, and to form a 
 muster-roll of the company ; with this improvement, 
 that it was to be ten times as numerous as the one that 
 had assembled at the christening : while the young ones 
 busied their imaginations as to the effect of new mourn- 
 ing — a luxury to them hitherto unknown. Mrs Douglas 
 and Mary were differently affected from the other mem- 
 bers of the family. Religion and reflection had taught 
 the former the enviable lesson of possessing her soul in
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 83 
 
 patience under every trial ; and while she inwardly 
 mourned the fate of the poor old man who had been 
 thus suddenly snatched from the only world that ever 
 had engaged his thoughts, her outward aspect was calm 
 and serene. The impression made upon Mary's feel- 
 ings was of a more powerful nature. She had witnessed 
 suffering, and watched by sick-beds ; but death, and 
 death in so terrific a form, was new to her. She had 
 been standing by her grandfather's chair — her head was 
 bent to his — her hand rested upon his, when, by a 
 momentary convulsion, she beheld the last dread change 
 — the living man transformed into the lifeless corpse. 
 The countenance but now fraught with life and human 
 thoughts, in the twinkling of an eye was covered with 
 the shades of death ! It was in vain that Mary prayed, 
 and reasoned, and strove against the feelings that had 
 been thus powerfully excited. One object alone pos- 
 sessed her imagination — the image of her grandfather 
 dying — dead ; his grim features — his ghastly visage — 
 his convulsive grasp — were ever present, by day and by 
 night. Her nervous system had received a shock too 
 powerful for all the strength of her understanding to 
 contend with. Mrs Douglas sought, by every means, 
 to soothe her feelings, and divert her attention ; and 
 flattered herself that a short time would allay the per- 
 turbation of her youthful emotions. 
 
 Five hundred persons, horse and foot, high and low, 
 male and female, graced the obsequies of the laird of 
 Glenfern. Benmore was there in his new wig, and the 
 autumnal leaves dropped on the coffin as it was borne 
 slowly along the vale !
 
 184 MARRIAGE. 
 
 It is no diminution, but a recommendation of human nature, 
 that, in some instances, passion gets the better of reason, and 
 all that we can think is impotent against half what we feel. 
 
 SjJectaior. 
 
 " T IFE is a mingled yarn ; " few of its afflictions 
 I ^ but are accompanied with some alleviation — 
 none of its blessings that do not bring some 
 alloy. Like most other events that long have formed the 
 object of yearning and almost hopeless wishes, and on 
 which have been built the fairest structure of human 
 felicity, the arrival of the young heir of Glenfern pro- 
 duced a less extraordinary degree of happiness than had 
 been anticipated. The melancholy event which had 
 marked the first ceremonial of his life had cast its gloom 
 alike on all nearly connected with him ; and when 
 time had dispelled the clouds of recent mourning, and 
 restored the mourners to their habitual train of thought 
 and action, somewhat of the novelty which had given 
 him such lively interest in the hearts of the sisters had 
 subsided. The distressing conviction, too, more and 
 more forceditself upon them, that their advice and assist- 
 ance were likely to be wholly overlooked in the nurture 
 of the infant mind, and management of the thriving 
 frame, of their little nephew. Their active energies 
 therefore, driven back to the accustomed channels, 
 after many murmurs and severe struggles, again revolved 
 in the same sphere as before. True, they sighed and 
 mourned for a time, but soon found occupation con- 
 genial to their nature in the little departments of life : 
 dressing crape ; reviving black silk ; converting narrow 
 hems into broad hems ; and, in short, who so busy, who 
 so important, as the ladies of Glenfern ? As Madame 
 de Stael, or de Something, says, " they fulfilled their
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 85 
 
 destinies." Their walk lay amongst tapes and pickles ; 
 their sphere extended from the garret to the pantry ; 
 and, often as they sought to diverge from it, their 
 instinct always led them to return to it, as the track in 
 which they were destined to move. There are creatures 
 of the same sort in the male part of the creation, but it 
 is foreign to my purpose to describe them at present. 
 Neither are the trifling and insignificant of either sex to 
 be treated with contempt, or looked upon as useless, by 
 those whom God has gifted with higher powers. In 
 the arrangements of an all-wise Providence, there is 
 nothing created in vain. Every link of that vast chain 
 that embraces creation helps to hold together the various 
 relations of life ; and all is beautiful gradation, from the 
 human vegetable to the glorious archangel. 
 
 If patient hope, if unexulting joy, and chastened anti- 
 cipation, sanctifying a mother's love, could have secured 
 her happiness, Mrs Douglas would have found, in the 
 smiles of her infant, all the comfort her virtue deserved. 
 But she still had to drink of that cup of sweet and 
 bitter which must bathe the lips of all who breathe the 
 breath of life. 
 
 While the instinct of a parent's love warmed her 
 heart, as she pressed her infant to her bosom, the sad- 
 ness of affectionate and rational solicitude stifled every 
 sentiment of pleasure, as she gazed on the altered and 
 drooping form of her adopted daughter — of the child 
 who had already repaid the cares that had been 
 lavished on her, and in whom she descried the pro- 
 mise of a plenteous harvest from the good seed she 
 had sown. Though Mary had been healthy in child- 
 hood, her constitution was naturally delicate, and she 
 had latterly outgrown her strength. The shock she - 
 had sustained by her grandfather's death, thus operating 
 on a weakened frame, had produced an effect apparently 
 most alarming ; and the efforts she made to exert her-
 
 1 86 MARRIAGE. 
 
 self only served to exhaust her. She felt all the 
 watchful solicitude, the tender anxieties, of her aunt, 
 and bitterly reproached herself with not better repaying 
 these exertions for her happiness. A thousand times 
 she tried to analyse and extirpate the saddening im- 
 pression that weighed upon her heart. 
 
 " It is not sorrow," reasoned she with herself, " that 
 thus oppresses me ; for though I reverenced my grand- 
 father, yet the loss of his society has scarcely been felt 
 by me. It cannot be fear — the fear of death ; for my 
 soul is not so abject as to confine its desires to this sub- 
 lunary scene. What, then, is this mysterious dread 
 that has taken possession of me ? Why do I suffer my 
 mind to suggest to me images of horror, instead of 
 visions of bliss ? Why can I not, as formerly, picture 
 to myself the beauty and the brightness of a soul casting 
 off mortality ? Why must the convulsed grasp, the 
 stifled groan, the glaring eye, for ever come betwixt 
 heaven and me ? " 
 
 Alas ! Mary was unskilled to answer. Hers was 
 the season for feeling, not for reasoning. She knew 
 not that hers was the struggle of imagination, striving 
 to maintain its ascendency over reality. She had heard, 
 and read, and thought, and talked of death ; and even 
 beheld its near approach ; but it was of death in its 
 fairest form — in its softest transition : and the veil had 
 been abruptly torn from her eyes ; the gloomy pass had 
 suddenly disclosed itself before her, not strewed with 
 flowers, but shrouded in horrors. Like all persons of 
 sensibility, Mary had a disposition to view everything 
 in a beau-ideal: whether that is a boon most fraught 
 with good or ill, it were difficult to ascertain. While 
 the delusion lasts, it is productive of pleasure to its 
 possessor ; but, oh ! the thousand aches that heart is 
 destined to endure, which clings to the stability, and 
 relies on the permanency, of earthly happiness ! But
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 87 
 
 the youthful heart must ever remain a stranger to this 
 saddening truth. Experience only can convince us 
 that happiness is not a plant of this world ; and that, 
 though many an eye had beheld its blossoms, no mortal 
 hand hath ever gathered its fruits. This, then, was 
 Mary's first lesson in what is called the knowledge of 
 life, as opposed to the beau-ideal of a young and ardent 
 imagination, in love with life, and luxuriating in its own 
 happiness. And upon such a mind it could not fail of 
 producing a powerful impression. 
 
 The anguish Mrs Douglas experienced, as she wit- 
 nessed the changing colour, lifeless step, and forced 
 smile of her darling eleve, was not mitigated by the 
 good sense or sympathy of those around her. While 
 Mary had prospered under her management, in the 
 consciousness that she was fulfilling her duty to the 
 best of her abilities she could listen with placid cheer- 
 fulness to the broken hints of disapprobation, or forced 
 good wishes for the success of her new-fangled schemes, 
 that were levelled at her by the sisters. But now, 
 when her cares seemed defeated, it was an additional 
 thorn in her heart to have to endure the common- 
 place wisdom and self-gratulations of the almost 
 exulting aunts ; not that they had the slightest inten- 
 tion of wounding the feelings of their niece, whom they 
 really loved, but the temptation was irresistible of prov- 
 ing that they had been in the right, and she in the 
 wrong, especially as no such acknowledgment had yet 
 been extorted from her. 
 
 " It is nonsense to ascribe Mary's dwining to her 
 grandfather's death," said Miss Jacky. " We are all 
 nearer to him in propinquity than she was, and none of 
 our healths have suffered." 
 
 "And there's his own daughters," added Miss 
 Grizzy, " who, of course, must have felt a great deal 
 more than anybody else — there can be no doubt of
 
 1 88 MARRIAGE. 
 
 that. Such sensible creatures as them must feel a great 
 deal ; but yet you see how they have got up their 
 spirits — I*m sure it's wonderful ! '' 
 
 " It shows their sense, and the effects of education," 
 said Miss Jacky. 
 
 " Girls that sup their porridge will always cut a good 
 figure," quoth Nicky. 
 
 "With their fine feelings, I'm sure, we have all 
 reason to be thankful that they have been blest with 
 such hearty stomachs," observed Miss Grizzy : " if 
 they had been deHcate, like poor Mary's, I'm sure, I 
 declare, I don't know what we would have done ; for 
 certainly they were all most dreadfully affected at their 
 excellent father's death ; which was quite natural, poor 
 things ! I'm sure there was no pacifying poor Babby ; 
 and, even yet, neither Bella nor Betsy can bear to be 
 left alone in a dark room. Tibby has to sleep with 
 them still every night ; and a lighted candle too — 
 which is much to their credit — and yet I'm sure it's 
 not with reading. I'm certain — indeed, I think there's 
 no doubt of it — that reading does young people much 
 harm. It puts things into their heads that never would 
 have been there but for books — nobody can dispute 
 that ! I declare, I think, reading's a very dangerous 
 thing. I'm certain all Mary's bad health is entirely 
 owing to reading. You know, we always thought she 
 read a great deal too much for her good." 
 
 " Much depends upon the choice of books," said 
 Jacky, with an air of the most profound wisdom. 
 " Fordyce's Sermons, and the History of Scotland, are 
 two of the very few books / would put into the hands 
 of a young woman. Our girls have read little else," — 
 casting a look at Mrs Douglas, who was calmly pursuing 
 her work in the midst of this shower of darts, all 
 levelled at her. 
 
 " To be sure," returned Grizzy, " it is a thousand
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 89 
 
 pities that Mary has been allowed to go on so long ; 
 not, I'm sure, that any of us mean to reflect upon you, 
 my dear Mrs Douglas ; for of course it was all owing 
 to your ignorance and inexperience ; and that, you 
 know, you could not help, so it was not your fault ; 
 nobody can blame you. I'm certain you would have 
 done what was right, if you had only known better ; 
 but, of course, we must all know much better than 
 you ; because, you know, we are a great deal older, 
 and especially Lady Maclaughlan, who has the greatest 
 experience in the diseases of old men especially, and 
 infants. Indeed it has been the study of her life 
 almost ; for, you know, poor Sir Sampson is never 
 well ; and, I dare say, if Mary had taken some of her 
 nice worm lozenges, which certainly cured Duncan 
 M'Nab's wife's daughter's little girl of the jaundice, 
 and used that valuable growing embrocation, which we 
 are all sensible made Babby a great deal fatter, — indeed 
 some people thought she grew a great deal too fat, 
 though, for my part, I think it's a good fault to be too 
 fat, — I dare say there would . have been nothing the 
 matter with her to-day." 
 
 " Mary has been too much accustomed to spend 
 both her time and money amongst idle vagrants," said 
 Nicky. 
 
 " Economy of both," subjoined Jacky, with an air 
 of humility, " I confess 1 have ever been accustomed 
 to consider as virtues. These handsome respectable 
 new bonnets," looking from Mrs Douglas, " that our 
 girls got just before their poor father's death, were 
 entirely the fruits of their own savings." 
 
 " And I declare," said Grizzy, who did not excel 
 in inuendos, " I declare, for my part — although at the 
 same time, my dear niece, I'm certain you are far from 
 intending it — I really think it's very disrespectful to 
 Sir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan, in anybody, and
 
 tgo MARRIAGE. 
 
 especially such near neighbours, to give more in charity 
 than they do : for, you may be sure, they give as much 
 as they think proper, and they must be the best judges, 
 and can afford to give what they please ; for Sir 
 Sampson could buy and sell all of us a hundred times 
 over, if he liked — there can be no doubt about that ! 
 It's long since the Lochmarlie estate was called seven 
 thousand a-year ; and, besides that, there's the Birken- 
 dale property, and the Glenmavis estate ; and, I'm 
 sure, I can't tell you all what ; but there's no doubt he's 
 a man of immense fortune." 
 
 Well it was known, and frequently was it discussed, 
 the iniquity of Mary being allowed to waste her time, 
 and squander her money, amongst the poor, instead of 
 being taught the practical virtues of making her own 
 gowns, and of hoarding up her pocket-money for some 
 selfish gratification. 
 
 In colloquies such as these, day after day passed on, 
 without any visible improvement taking place in her 
 health. Only one remedy suggested itself to Mrs 
 Douglas, and that was to remove her to the south of 
 England for the winter. Milder air, and change of 
 scene, she had no doubt would prove efficacious ; and 
 her opinion was confirmed by that of the celebrated 
 
 Dr , who having been summoned to the laird 
 
 of Pettlechass, had paid a visit at Glenfern en passant. 
 How so desirable an event was to be accomplished, was 
 the difficulty. By the death of his father, a variety of 
 business, and an extent of farming, had devolved upon 
 Mr Douglas, which obliged him to fix his residence at 
 Glenfern, and rendered it impossible for him to be long 
 absent from it. Mrs Douglas had engaged in the duties 
 of a nurse to her little boy, and to take him or leave 
 him was equally out of the question. 
 
 In this dilemma, the only resource that offered was 
 that of sending Mary for a few months to her mother.
 
 MARRIAGE. T9I 
 
 True, it was a painful necessity ; for Mrs Douglas 
 seldom heard from her sister-in-law, and when she did, 
 her letters were short and cold. She sometimes desired 
 a "kiss to her (Mrs Douglas's) little girl ; " and once, 
 in an extraordinary fit of good humour, had actually 
 sent a locket with her hair in a letter by post, for which 
 Mrs Douglas had to pay something more than the value 
 of the present. This was all that Mary knew of her 
 mother, and the rest of her family were still greater 
 strangers to her. Her father remained in a distant 
 station in India, and was seldom heard of. Her 
 brother was gone to sea ; and though she had written 
 repeatedly to her sister, her letters remained unnoticed. 
 Under these circumstances, there was something revolt- 
 ing in the idea of obtruding Mary upon the notice of 
 her relations, and trusting to their kindness even for 
 a few months ; yet her health, perhaps her life, was at 
 stake, and Mrs Douglas felt she had scarcely a right 
 to hesitate. 
 
 " Mary has, perhaps, been too long an alien from 
 her own family," said she to herself: "this will be a 
 means of her becoming acquainted with them, and of 
 introducing her to that sphere in which she is probably 
 destined to walk. Under her uncle's roof she will 
 surely be safe, and in the society of her mother and 
 sister she cannot be unhappy. New scenes will give a 
 stimulus to her mind ; the necessity of exertion will 
 brace the languid faculties of her soul ; and a few short 
 months, I trust, will restore her to me such, and even 
 superior to what she was. Why, then, should I 
 hesitate to do what my conscience tells me ought to be 
 done ? Alas ! it is because I selfishly shrink from the 
 pain of separation, and am unwilling to relinquish, even 
 for a season, one of the many blessings heaven has be- 
 stowed upon me." And Mrs Douglas, noble and 
 disinterested as ever, rose superior to the weakness that
 
 192 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 she felt was besetting her. Mary listened to her com- 
 munication with a throbbing heart, and eyes suffused 
 with tears : to part from her aunt was agony ; but to 
 behold her mother — she to whom she owed her ex- 
 istence, — to embrace a sister too — and one for whom 
 she felt all those mysterious yearnings which twins are 
 said to entertain towards each other, — Oh ! there was 
 rapture in the thought ; and Mary's buoyant heart 
 fluctuated between the extremes of anguish and delight. 
 
 The venerable sisters received the intelligence with 
 much surprise. They did not know very well what to 
 say about it : there was much to be said both for and 
 against it. Lady Maclaughlan had a high opinion of 
 English air ; but then they had heard the morals of the 
 people were not so good, and there were a great many 
 dissipated young men in England ; though, to be sure, 
 there was no denying but the mineral waters were ex- 
 cellent : and, in short, it ended in Miss Grizzy's sitting 
 down to concoct an epistle to Lady Maclaughlan ; in 
 Miss Jacky's beginning to draw up a code of instruc- 
 tions for a young woman upon her entrance into life ; 
 and Miss Nicky hoping, that, if Mary did go, she 
 would take care not to bring back any extravagant 
 English notions with her. The younger set debated 
 amongst themselves how many of them would be in- 
 vited to accompany Mary to England ; and from thence 
 fell to disputing the possession of a brown hair-trunk, 
 with a flourished D, in brass letters, on the top. 
 
 Mrs Douglas, with repressed feelings, set about offer- 
 ing the sacrifice she had planned ; and in a letter to 
 Lady Juliana, descriptive of her daughter's situation, 
 she sought to excite her tenderness without creating an 
 alarm. How far she succeeded, will be seen hereafter. 
 Tn the meantime, we must take a retrospective glance at 
 the last seventeen years of her ladyship's life.
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 93 
 
 Cbapter %):%^ 
 
 Her " only labour was to kill the time ; 
 And labour dire it is, and weary woe." 
 
 Castle of Indolence. 
 
 YEARS had rolled on, amidst heartless pleasures 
 and joyless amusements, but Lady Juliana was 
 made neither the wiser nor the better by added 
 years and increased experience. Time had in vain 
 turned his glass before eyes still dazzled with the gaudy 
 allurements of the world, for she took " no note of 
 time,'* but as the thing that was to take her to the 
 Opera and the Park, and that sometimes hurried her 
 excessively, and sometimes bored her to death. At 
 length she was compelled to abandon her chase after 
 happiness, in the only sphere where she believed it was 
 to be found. Lord Courtland's declining health un- 
 fitted him for the dissipation of a London life; and, by 
 the advice of his physician, he resolved upon retiring to 
 a country seat which he possessed in the vicinity of 
 Bath. Lady Juliana was in despair at the thoughts of 
 this sudden wrench from what she termed life : but she 
 had no resource ; for though her good-natured husband 
 gave her the whole of General Cameron's allowance, 
 that merely served as pin-money ; and though her 
 brother was perfectly willing that she and her children 
 should occupy apartments in his house, yet he would 
 have been equally acquiescent had she proposed to 
 remove from it. Lady Juliana had a sort of instinctive 
 knowledge of this, which prevented her from break- 
 ing out into open remonstrance. She therefore con- 
 tented herself with being more than usually peevish and 
 irascible to her servants and children ; and talking to 
 her friends of the prodigious sacrifice she was about to 
 make for her brother and his family, as if it had been 
 
 i. N
 
 194 MARRIAGE. 
 
 the cutting off of a hand, or the plucking out of an eye. 
 To have heard her, any one unaccustomed to the 
 hyperbole of fashionable language would have deemed 
 Botany Bay the nearest possible point of destination. 
 Parting from her fashionable acquaintances was tearing 
 herself from all she loved — quitting London was bid- 
 ding adieu to the world. Of course there could be no 
 society where she was going, but still she would do her 
 duty — she would not desert dear Frederick and his 
 poor children 1 In short, no martyr was ever led to 
 the stake with half the notions of heroism and self- 
 devotion as those with which Lady Juliana stepped into 
 the barouche that was to conduct her to Beech Park. 
 In the society of piping bullfinches, pink canaries, grey 
 parrots, gold-fish, green squirrels, Italian greyhounds, 
 and French poodles, she sought a refuge from despair. 
 But even these varied charms, after a while, failed to 
 please : the bullfinches grew hoarse — the canaries turned 
 yellow — the parrots became stupid — the gold-fish grew 
 dim — the squirrels were cross — the dogs fought ; even 
 a shell-grotto, that was constructing, fell down ; and by 
 the time the aviary and conservatory were filled, they 
 had lost their interest. The children were the next 
 subjects for her ladyship's ennui to discharge itself upon. 
 Lord Courtland had a son, some years older, and a 
 daughter nearly of the same age as her own. It sud- 
 denly occurred to her that they must be educated, 
 and that she would educate the girls herself. As the 
 first step, she engaged two governesses, French and 
 Italian ; — modern treatises on the subject of education 
 were ordered from London — looked at, admired, and 
 arranged on gilded shelves and sofa-tables : and, could 
 their contents have exhaled with the odours of their 
 Russian leather bindings. Lady Juliana's dressing-room 
 would have been, what Sir Joshua Reynolds says every 
 seminary of learning ix, "an atmosphere of floating
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 95 
 
 knowledge.*' But amidst this splendid display of 
 human lore, the book found no place. She had heard 
 of the Bible, however, and even knew it was a book 
 appointed to be read in churches, and given to poor 
 people, along with Rumford soup and flannel shirts ; 
 but as the rule of life — as the book that alone could 
 make wise unto salvation, this Christian parent was 
 ignorant as the Hottentot or Hindoo. 
 
 Three days beheld the rise, progress, and decline of 
 Lady Juliana's whole system of education ; and it 
 would have been well for the children had the trust 
 been delegated to those better qualified to discharge it. 
 But neither of the preceptresses were better skilled in 
 the only true knowledge. Signora Cicianai was a 
 bigoted Catholic, whose faith hung upon her beads ; 
 and Madame Grignon was an esprit fort, who had no 
 faith in any thing but k plaisir. But the signora's 
 singing was heavenly, and madame's dancing was divine ; 
 and what lacked there more ? 
 
 So passed the first years of being trained for immor- 
 tality. The children insensibly ceased to be children, 
 and Lady Juliana would have beheld the increasing 
 heigiit and beauty of her daughter with extreme dis- 
 approbation, had not that beauty, by awakening her 
 ambition, also excited her affection, if the term affection 
 could be applied to that heterogeneous mass of feelings 
 and propensities that " shape had none distinguishable." 
 Lady Juliana had fallen into an error, very common 
 with wiser heads than hers — that of mistaking the e^ect 
 for the cause. She looked no farther than to her union 
 with Henry Douglas for the foundation of all her un- 
 happiness — it never once occurred to her, that her 
 marriage was only the consequence of something pre- 
 viously wrong ; she saw not the headstrong passions 
 that had impelled her to please herself — no matter at 
 what price. She thought not of the want of principle
 
 196 MARRIAGE. 
 
 — she blushed not at the want of delicacy, that had led 
 her to deceive a parent, and elope with her lover. She 
 therefore considered herself as having fallen a victim to 
 love ; and could she only save her daughter from a 
 similar error, she might yet by her means retrieve her 
 fallen fortune. To implant principles of religion and 
 virtue in her mind, was not within the compass of her 
 own ; but she could scoff at every pure and generous 
 affection — she could ridicule every disinterested attach- 
 ment—and she could expatiate on the never-fading joys 
 that attend on wealth and titles, jewels and equipages — 
 and all this she did in the belief that she was acting the 
 part of a most wise and tender parent ! The seed, thus 
 carefully sown, promised to bring forth an abundant 
 harvest. At eighteen, Adelaide Douglas was as heart- 
 less and ambitious as she was beautiful and accomplished 
 — but the surface was covered with flowers, and who 
 would have thought of analysing the soil ? 
 
 It sometimes happens, that the very means used, with 
 success, in the formation of one character, produce a 
 totally opposite effect upon another. The mind of Lady 
 Emily Lindore had undergone exactly the same process 
 in its formation as that of her cousin ; yet in all things 
 they differed. Whether it were the independence of 
 high birth, or the pride of a mind conscious of its own 
 powers, she had hitherto resisted the sophistry of her 
 governesses, and the solecisms of her aunt. But her 
 notions of right and wrong were too crude to influence 
 the general tenor of her life, or operate as restraints upon 
 a naturally high spirit, and impetuous temper. Not all 
 the united efforts of her preceptresses had been able to 
 form a manner for their pupil ; nor could their authority 
 restrain her from saying what she thought, and doing 
 what she pleased ; and, in spite of both precept and 
 example, Lady Emily remained as insupportably natural 
 and sincere as she was beautiful and piquante. At six
 
 MARRIAGE. I97 
 
 years old, she had declared her intention of marrying 
 her cousin, Edward Douglas ; and at .eighteen, her 
 words were little less equivocal. Lord Courtland, who 
 never disturbed himself about any thing, was rather 
 diverted with this juvenile attachment ; and Lady 
 Juliana, who cared little for her son, and still less foi 
 her niece, only wondered how people could be such 
 fools as to think of marrying for love, after she had told 
 them how miserable it would make them. 
 
 Cl)a|)tcr %):%j^ 
 
 Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise ; 
 The fool lies hid in inconsistencies. 
 
 Pope.. 
 
 And for unfelt imaginations 
 
 They often feel a world of restless cares. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 ^ UCH were the female members of the family to 
 whom Mary was about to be introduced. In her 
 mother's heart she had no place, for of her absent 
 husband and neglected daughter she seldom thought ; 
 and their letters were scarcely read, and rarely answered. 
 Even good Miss Grizzy's elaborate epistle, in which 
 were curiously entwined the death of her brother, and 
 the birth and christening of her grand-nephew, in a 
 truly Gordian manner, remained disentangled. Had 
 her ladyship only read to the middle of the seventh 
 page, she would have learned the indisposition of her 
 daughter, with the various opinions thereupon ; but poor 
 Miss Grizzy's labours were vain, for her letter remains 
 a dead letter to this day. Mrs Douglas was therefore 
 the first to convey the unwelcome intelligence, and to 
 suggest to the mind of the mother that her alienated 
 daughter still retained some claims upon her care and 
 
 b
 
 198 MARRIAGE. 
 
 affection ; and, although this was done with all the 
 tenderness and delicacy of a gentle and enlightened 
 mind, it called forth the most bitter indignation from 
 Lady Juliana. 
 
 She almost raved at what she termed the base in- 
 gratitude and hypocrisy of her sister-in-law. After the 
 sacrifice she had made in giving up her child to her 
 when she had none of her own, it was a pretty return 
 to send her back only to die. But she saw through it. 
 She did not believe a word of the girl's illness : that 
 was all a trick to get rid of her. Now they had a child 
 of their own, they had no use for hers . but she was not 
 to be made a fool of in such a way, and by such people, 
 &c., &c. 
 
 " If Mrs Douglas is so vile a woman," said the pro- 
 voking Lady Emily, " the sooner my cousin is taken 
 from her the better." 
 
 " You don't understand these things, Emily," returned 
 her aunt impatiently. 
 
 « What things ? " 
 
 " The trouble and annoyance it will occasion me to 
 take charge of the girl at this time." 
 
 " Why at this time more than at any other ? " 
 
 " Absurd, my dear ! how can you ask so foolish a 
 question ? Don't you know that you and Adelaide are 
 both to bring out this winter, and how can I possibly do 
 you justice with a dying girl upon my hands ? " 
 
 " I thought you suspected it was all a trick," 
 continued the persecuting Lady Emily. 
 
 " So I do ; I haven't the least doubt of it. The 
 whole story is the most improbable stuff I ever 
 heard." 
 
 " Then you will have less trouble than you expect." 
 
 " But I hate to be made a dupe of, and imposed 
 upon by low cunning. If Mrs Douglas had told me 
 candidly she wished me to take the girl, I should have
 
 MARRIAGE. 1 99 
 
 thought nothing of it ; but I can't bear to be treated 
 like a fool." 
 
 " I don't see any thing at all unbecoming in Mrs 
 Douglas's treatment." 
 
 *' Then, what can I do with a girl who has been 
 educated in Scotland ? She must be vulgar — all Scotch 
 women are so. They have red hands and rough 
 voices ; they yawn, and blow their noses, and talk 
 and laugh loud, and do a thousand shocking things. 
 Then, to hear the Scotch brogue — oh, heavens ! 
 I should expire every time she opened her mouth ! " 
 
 " Perhaps my sister may not speak so very broad," 
 kindly suggested Adelaide in her sweetest accents. 
 
 ** You are very good, my love, to think so ; but no- 
 body can live in that odious country without being 
 infected with hs patois. I really thought I should have 
 caught it myself; and Mr Douglas (no longer Henry) 
 became quite gross in his language, after living amongst 
 his relations." 
 
 " This is really too bad," cried Lady Emily, indig- 
 nantly. " If a person speaks sense and truth, what does 
 it signify in what accent they are spoken ? And whether 
 your ladyship chooses to receive your daughter here or 
 not, I shall, at any rate, invite my cousin to my father's 
 house." And, snatching up a pen, she instantly began 
 a letter to Mary. 
 
 Lady Juliana was highly incensed at this freedom of 
 her niece ; but she was a little afraid of her, and there- 
 fore, after some sharp altercation, and with infinite 
 violence done to her feelings, she was prevailed upon 
 to write a decently civil sort of a letter to Mrs 
 Douglas, consenting to receive her daughter for a feiu 
 months ; firmly resolving in her own mind to conceal 
 her from all eyes and ears while she remained, and' 
 to return her to her Scotch relations early in the 
 summer.
 
 200 MARRIAGE. 
 
 This worthy resolution formed, she became more 
 serene, and awaited the arrival of her daughter with as 
 much firmness as could reasonably have been expected. 
 
 Little weened the good ladies of Glenfern the un- 
 gracious reception their protege was likely to experience 
 from her mother ; for, in spite of the defects of her 
 education, Mary was a general favourite in the family ; 
 and, however they might solace themselves by depre- 
 ciating her to Mrs Douglas, to the world in general, and 
 their young female acquaintances in particular, she was 
 upheld as an epitome of every perfection above and 
 below the sun. Had it been possible for them to con- 
 ceive that Mary could have been received with anything 
 short of rapture, Lady Juliana's letter might, in some 
 measure, have opened the eyes of their understanding ; 
 but to the guileless sisters it seemed everything that was 
 proper. Sorry for the necessity Mrs Douglas felt of 
 parting with her adopted daughter — was " prettily ex- 
 pressed ; " had no doubt it was merely a slight nervous 
 affection — " was kind and soothing ;'* and the assurance, 
 more than once repeated, that her friends might rely 
 upon her being returned to them in the course of a very 
 few months, " showed a great deal of feeling and con- 
 sideration." But as their minds never maintained a just 
 equilibrium long upon any subject, but, like falsely- 
 adjusted scales, were ever hovering and vibrating at 
 either extreme — so they could not rest satisfied in the 
 belief that Mary was to be happy — there must be some- 
 thing to counteract that stilling sentiment ; and that was 
 the apprehension that Mary would be spoilt. This, for 
 the present, was the pendulum of their imaginations. 
 
 " I declare, Mary, my sisters and I could get no 
 sleep last night for thinking of you," said Miss Grizzy ; 
 " we are all certain that Lady Juliana especially, but 
 indeed all your English relations, will think so much of 
 you — from not knowing you, you know — which will be
 
 MARRIAGE. 20I 
 
 quite natural, that my sisters and I have taken it into 
 our heads — but I hope it won't be the case, as you have 
 a great deal of good sense of your own — that they will 
 quite turn your head." 
 
 " Mary's head is on her shoulders to little purpose," 
 followed up Miss Jacky, " if she can't stand being made 
 of when she goes amongst strangers ; and she ought to 
 know by this time, that a mother's partiality is no proof 
 of a child's merit." 
 
 " You hear that, Mary," rejoined Miss Grizzy : " so 
 I'm sure I hope you won't mind a word what your 
 mother says to you, — I mean about yourself; for, of 
 course, you know, she can't be such a good judge of 
 you as us, who have known you all your life. As to 
 other things, I dare say she is very well informed about 
 the country, and politics, and these sort of things — I'm 
 certain Lady Juliana knows a great deal." 
 
 " And I hope, Mary, you will take care and not get 
 into the daadlin' handless ways of the English women," 
 said Miss Nicky ; " I wouldn't give a pin for an English 
 
 woman." 
 
 " And I hope you will never look at an Englishman, 
 Mary," said Miss Grizzy, with equal earnestness ; " take 
 my word for it, they are a very dissipated unprincipled 
 set of young men — so you may think what it would be 
 for all of us if you was to marry any of them." And 
 tears streamed from the good spinster's eyes, at the bare 
 supposition of such a calamity. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, my dear aunt," said Mary, with a 
 kind caress ; " I shall come back to you your own 
 * Highland Mary.' No Englishman, with his round 
 face and trim meadows, shall ever captivate me. Heath - 
 covered hills, and high cheek-bones, are the charms that 
 must win my heart." 
 
 " I'm delighted to hear you say so, my dear Mary," 
 said the literal-minded Grizzy. " Certainly nothing can
 
 202 MARRIAGE. 
 
 be prettier than the heather when it's in flower ; and 
 there is something very manly — nobody can dispute that 
 — in high cheek-bones : and besides, to tell you a secret, 
 Lady Maclaughlan has a husband in her eye for you ; — 
 we, none of us, can conceive who it is, but, of course, 
 he must be suitable in every respect ; for you know 
 Lady Maclaughlan has had two husbands herself, so, 
 of course, she must be an excellent judge of a good 
 husband." 
 
 " Or a bad one," said Mary, " which is the same 
 thing. Warning is as good as example." 
 
 Mrs Douglas's ideas and those of her aunts did not 
 coincide upon this occasion more than upon most others. 
 In her sister-in-law's letter she flattered herself she saw 
 only fashionable indifference ; and she fondly hoped that 
 would soon give way to a tenderer sentiment, as her 
 daughter became known to her. At any rate, it was 
 proper that Mary should make the trial, and, whichever 
 way it ended, it must be for her advantage. 
 
 " Mary has already lived too long in these mountain 
 solitudes," thought she ; " her ideas will become 
 romantic, and her taste fastidious. If it is dangerous to 
 be too early initiated into the ways of the world, it is per- 
 haps equally so to live too long secluded from it. Should 
 she win herself a place in the heart of her mother and 
 sister, it will be so much happiness gained ; and should 
 it prove otherwise, it will be a lesson learnt — a hard one, 
 indeed ! but hard are the lessons we must all learn in the 
 school of life ! " Yet Mrs Douglas's fortitude almost 
 failed her as the period of separation approached. 
 
 It had been arranged by Lady Emily that a carriage 
 and servants should meet Mary at Edinburgh, whither 
 Mr Douglas was to convey her. The cruel moment 
 came ; and mother, sister, relations, friends, all the 
 bright visions which Mary's sanguine spirit had conjured 
 up to soften the parting pang, all were absorbed in one
 
 MARRIAGE. 203 
 
 agonising feeling — one overwhelming thought. Oh ! 
 who that, for the first time, has parted from the parent 
 whose tenderness and love were entwined with our 
 earliest recollections, whose sympathy had soothed our 
 infant sufferings, whose fondness had brightened our 
 infant felicity ; — who, that has a heart, but must have 
 felt it sink beneath the anguish of a first farewell ! Yet 
 bitterer still must be the feelings of the parent upon 
 committing the cherished object of her cares and affec- 
 tions to the stormy ocean of life. When experience 
 points to the gathering cloud and rising surge which may 
 soon assail her defenceless child, what can support the 
 mother's heart but trust in Him whose eye slumbereth 
 not, and whose power extendeth over all ! It was this 
 pious hope, this holy confidence, that enabled this more 
 than mother to part from her adopted child with a 
 resignation which no earthly motive could have imparted 
 to her mind. 
 
 It seems almost profanation to mingle with her ele- 
 vated feelings the coarse, yet simple, sorrows of the 
 aunts, old and young, as they clung around the nearly 
 lifeless Mary, each tendering the parting gift they had 
 kept as a solace for the last. 
 
 Poor Miss Grizzy was more than usually incoherent, 
 as she displayed " a nice new umbrella, that could be 
 turned into a nice walking-stick, or any thing ; " and 
 " a dressing-box, with a little of every thing in it ; '* 
 and, with a fresh burst of tears, Mary was directed 
 where she would not find eye-ointment, and where she 
 was not to look for court-plaster. 
 
 Miss Jacky was more composed, as she presented a 
 flaming copy of "Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women," 
 with a few suitable observations ; but Miss Nicky could 
 scarcely find voice to tell, that the housewife she now 
 tendered had once been Lady Girnachgowl's, and that 
 it contained Whitechapel needles of every size and
 
 204 MARRIAGE. 
 
 number. The younger ladies had clubbed for the pur- 
 chase of a large locket, in which was enshrined a lock 
 
 from each subscriber, tastefully arranged by the 
 
 jeweller, in the form of a wheatsheaf, upon a blue ground. 
 Even old Donald had his offering, and, as he stood 
 tottering at the chaise-door, he contrived to get a " bit 
 snishin mull " laid on Mary's lap, with a " Bless her 
 bonny face, an' may she ne'er want a good sneesh ! " 
 
 The carriage drove off, and for a while Mary's eyes 
 were closed in anguish. 
 
 Farewell to the mountains, high cover'd with snow ; 
 Farewell to the straths, and green valleys below ; 
 Farewell to the forests, and wild hanging woods ; 
 Farewell to the torrents, and loud roaring floods I 
 
 Scotch Song. 
 
 HAPPILY in the moral world, as in the material 
 one, the warring elements have their prescribed 
 bounds, and " the flood of grief decreaseth when 
 it can swell no higher ; " but it is only by retrospection 
 we can bring ourselves to believe in this obvious truth. 
 The young and untried heart hugs itself in the bitter- 
 ness of its emotions, and takes a pride in believing that 
 its anguish can end but with its existence ; and it is 
 not till time hath almost steeped our senses in forgetful- 
 ness, that we discover the mutability of all human 
 passions. 
 
 But Mary left it not to the slow hand of time to 
 subdue in some measure the grief that swelled her heart. 
 Had she given way to selfishness, she would have sought 
 the free indulgence of her sorrow as the only mitigation 
 of it ; but she felt also for her uncle. He was depressed
 
 MARRIAGE. 205 
 
 at parting with his wife and child, and he was taking 
 a long and dreary journey entirely upon her account. 
 Could she therefore be so selfish as to add to his 
 uneasiness by a display of her sufferings ? No — she 
 would strive to conceal it from his observation, though 
 to overcome it was impossible. Her feelings must ever 
 remain the same, but she would confine them to her 
 own breast ; and she began to converse with, and even 
 strove to amuse, her kind-hearted companion. Ever 
 and anon, indeed, a rush of tender recollections came 
 across her mind, and the soft voice and the bland 
 countenance of her maternal friend seemed for a 
 moment present to her senses ; and then the dreari- 
 ness and desolation that succeeded as the delusion 
 vanished, and all was stillness and vacuity ! Even 
 self-reproach shot its piercing sting into her ingenuous 
 heart : levities, on which, in her usual gaiety of spirit, 
 she had never bestowed a thought, now appeared to her 
 as crimes of the deepest dye. She thought how often 
 she had slighted the counsels and neglected the wishes 
 of her gentle monitress ; how she had wearied of her 
 good old aunts, their cracked voices, the drowsy hum 
 of their spinning wheels, the rasping sound of their 
 shaping-scissors, and the everlasting tic-a-tic of their 
 knitting-needles ; how coarse and vulgar she had some- 
 times deemed the younger ones ; how she had mimicked 
 Lady Maclaughlan, and caricatured Sir Sampson ; and 
 " even poor dear old Donald," said she, as she summed 
 up the catalogue of her crimes, " could not escape my 
 insolence and ill-nature. How clever I thought it to 
 sing * Haud awa frae me, Donald,' and how affectedly 
 I shuddered at everything he touched ! " — and the 
 " sneeshin mull " was bedewed with tears of affectionate 
 contrition. But every painful sentiment was for a while 
 suspended in admiration of the magnificent scenery that 
 was spread around them. Though summer had fled,
 
 2o6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 and few even of autumn's graces remained, yet over the 
 august features of mountain scenery the seasons have 
 little control. Their charms depend not upon richness 
 of verdure, or luxuriance of foliage, or any of the mere 
 prettinesses of nature ; but, whether wrapped in snow, 
 or veiled in mist, or glowing in sunshine, their lonely 
 grandeur remains the same ; and the same feelings fill 
 and elevate the soul in contemplating these mighty 
 works of an Almighty hand. 
 
 O Nature ! all thy seasons please the eye 
 Of him who sees a Deity in all. 
 
 The eye is never weary of watching the thousand 
 varieties of light and shade, as they flit over the moun- 
 tain, or gleam upon the water ; while the ear is satisfied 
 with the majestic silence of solitude, or charmed with 
 the " wild roarings of nature," as heard in the hollow 
 murmur of the wind, or the hoarse gurghng of in- 
 numerable mountain-streams. 
 
 Others besides Mary seemed to have taken a fanciful 
 pleasure in combining the ideas of the mental and ele- 
 mental world ; for, in the dreary dwelling where they 
 were destined to pass the night, she found inscribed the 
 following lines : — 
 
 " The busy winds war 'mid the waving boughs, 
 And darkly rolls the heaving surge to land ; 
 Among the flying clouds the moon-beam glows 
 With colours foreign to its softness bland. 
 
 "Here, one dark shadow melts, in gloom profouna, 
 The towering Alps — the guardians of the Lake ; 
 There, one bright gleam sheds silver light around, 
 And shows the threat'ning strife that tempests wake. 
 
 " Thus o'er my mind a busy memory plays, 
 That shakes the feelings to their inmost core ; 
 Thus beams the light of Hope's fallacious rays, 
 When simple confidence can trust no more.
 
 MARRIAGE. 207 
 
 " So one dark shadow shrouds each by-gone hour, 
 So one bright gleam the coming tempest shows ; 
 That tells of sorrows, which, though past, still lower, 
 And this reveals th' approach of future woes. C." 
 
 While Mary was trying to decipher these somewhat 
 mystic lines, her uncle was carrying on a colloquy in 
 Gaelic with their hostess. The consequences of the 
 consultation were not of the choicest description, con- 
 sisting of braxy * mutton, raw potatoes, wet bannocks, 
 hard cheese, and whisky. Very differently would the 
 travellers have fared, had the good Nicky's intentions 
 been fulfilled. She had prepared with her own hands 
 a moorfowl-pie and potted nowt's-head, besides a pro- 
 fusion of what she termed " trifles, just for Mary, poor 
 thing ! to divert herself with upon the road." But, 
 alas ! in the anguish of separation the covered basket 
 had been forgot, and the labour of Miss Nicky's hands 
 fell to be consumed by the family, though Miss Grizzy 
 protested, with tears in her eyes, " that it went to her 
 heart like a knife, to eat poor Mary's puffs and snaps." 
 
 Change of air and variety of scene failed not to pro- 
 duce the happiest effects upon Mary's languid frame 
 and drooping spirits. Her cheek already glowed with 
 health, and was sometimes dimpled with smiles. She 
 still wept, indeed, as she thought of those she had left ; 
 but often while the tear trembled in her eye its course 
 was arrested by wonder, or admiration, or delight, — for 
 every object had its charms for her. Her cultivated 
 taste and thoughtful mind could descry beauty in the 
 form of a hill, and grandeur in the foam of the wave, 
 and elegance in the weeping birch as it dipped its now 
 almost leafless boughs in the mountain stream. These 
 simple pleasures, unknown alike to the sordid mind and 
 vitiated taste, are ever exquisitely enjoyed by 
 
 one whose heart the holy forms 
 
 Of young Imagination have kept pure. 
 * Sheep that have died a natural death, and been salted.
 
 !08 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Chapter nviiU 
 
 Her native sense improved by reading, 
 Her native sweetness by good breeding. 
 
 DURING their progress through the Highlands, 
 the travellers were hospitably entertained at the 
 mansions of the country gentlemen, where old- 
 fashioned courtesy and modern comfort combined to 
 cheer the stranger-guest. But upon coming out, as it is 
 significantly expressed by the natives of these mountain 
 regions, viz., entering the low countiy, they found they 
 had only made a change of difficulties. In the High- 
 lands they were always sure, that wherever there was a 
 house, that house would be to them a home ; but on a 
 fair day in the Uttle town of G they found them- 
 selves in the midst of houses, and surrounded by people, 
 yet unable to procure rest or shelter. 
 
 At the only inn the place afforded, they were in- 
 formed the horses were all out, and the house quite 
 full ; while the driver asserted, what indeed was appar- 
 ent, " that his beasts wama fit to gang the length o* 
 their foot farther — no for the king himsel'." 
 
 At this moment, a stout, florid, good-humoured- 
 looking man passed, whistling " Roy's Wife " with all 
 his heart ; and, just as Mr Douglas was stepping out of 
 the carriage to try what could be done, the same per- 
 son, e\'idently attracted by curiosity, repassed, changing 
 his tune to " There's cauld kail in Aberdeen.'* 
 
 He started at sight of Mr Douglas ; then eagerly 
 grasping his hand, " Ah ! Archie Douglas, is this 
 you : " exclaimed he, with a loud laugh, and hearty 
 shake. " What ! you haven't forgot your old school- 
 fellow. Bob Gawffaw r " 
 
 A mutual recognition now took place, and much 
 pleasure was manifested on both sides at this unexpected
 
 MARRIAGE. 209 
 
 rencontre. No time was allowed to explain their 
 embarrassments, for Mr Gawffaw had already tipped 
 the post-boy the wink (which he seemed easily to com- 
 prehend) ; and, forcing Mr Douglas to resume his 
 seat in the carriage, he jumped in himself. 
 
 " Now for Howffend, and Mrs Gawffaw ! ha, ha, 
 ha ! This will be a surprise upon her. She thinks 
 I'm in my barn all this time — ha, ha, ha ! ** 
 
 Mr Douglas here began to express his astonishment 
 at his friend's precipitation, and his apprehensions as to 
 the trouble they might occasion Mrs Gawffaw ; but 
 bursts of laughter and broken expressions of delight 
 were the only replies he could procure from his friend. 
 
 After jolting over half a mile of very bad road, the 
 carriage stopped at a mean vulgar-looking mansion, 
 with dirty windows, ruinous thatched offices, and broken 
 fences. 
 
 Such was the picture of still life. That of animated 
 nature was not less picturesque. Cows bellowed, and 
 cart-horses neighed, and pigs grunted, and geese gabbled, 
 and ducks quacked, and cocks and hens flapped and 
 fluttered promiscuously, as they mingled, in a sort of 
 yard, divided from the house by a low dike, possessing 
 the accommodation of a crazy gate, which was bestrode 
 by a parcel of bare-legged boys. 
 
 " What are you about, you lazy rascals ! " called 
 Mr Gawffaw to them. 
 
 " Naething," answered one. 
 
 " We're just takin' a heize on the yett," answered 
 another. 
 
 " I'll heize ye, ye scoundrels ! " exclaimed the in- 
 censed Mr Gawffaw, as he burst from the carriage ; 
 and, snatching the driver's whip from his hand, flew 
 after the more nimble-footed culprits. 
 
 Finding his efforts to overtake them in vain, he 
 returned to the door of his mansion, where stood his 
 
 I.
 
 2IO MARRIAGE. 
 
 guests, waiting to be ushered in. He opened the door 
 himself, and led the way to a parlour, which was quite 
 of a piece with the exterior of the dwelling. A dim 
 dusty table stood in the middle of the floor, heaped 
 with a variety of heterogeneous articles of dress, and an 
 exceeding dirty volume of a novel lay open amongst 
 them. The floor was littered with shapings of flannel, 
 and shreds of gauzes, ribands, &c. The fire was almost 
 out, and the hearth was covered with ashes. 
 
 After insisting upon his guests being seated, Mr 
 Gawffaw walked to the door of the apartment, and 
 hallooed out, " Mrs GawfFaw — ho ! May, my dear ! 
 — I say, Mrs Gawfl^aw ! " 
 
 A low, croaking, querulous voice was now heard in 
 reply, — " For any sake, Mr GawfFaw, make less noise! 
 have mercy on the walls of your house, if youVe none 
 on my poor head ! " And thereupon entered Mrs 
 GawfFaw, a cap in one hand, which she appeared to 
 have been trying on — a smelling-bottle in the other. 
 
 She possessed a considerable share of insipid, and 
 somewhat faded, beauty, but disguised by a tawdry 
 trumpery style of dress, and rendered almost disgusting 
 by the air of affectation, folly, and peevishness, that 
 overspread her whole person and deportment. She 
 testified the utmost surprise and coldness at sight of her 
 guests ; and, as she entered, Mr GawfFaw rushed out, 
 having descried something passing in the yard that called 
 for his interposition. Mr Douglas was therefore under 
 the necessity of introducing himself and Mary to their 
 ungracious hostess ; briefly stating the circumstances 
 that had led them to be her guests, and dwelling, with 
 much warmth, on the kindness and hospitality of her 
 husband in having relieved them from their embarrass- 
 ment. A gracious smile, or what was intended as such, 
 beamed over Mrs GawfFaw's face at first mention of 
 their names.
 
 MARRIAGE. 211 
 
 (« 
 
 Excuse me, Mr Douglas," said she, making a pro- 
 found reverence to him, and another to Mary, while 
 she waved her hand for them to be seated. " Excuse 
 me. Miss Douglas ; but, situated as I am, I find it 
 necessary to be very distant to Mr Gawffaw's friends 
 sometimes. He is a thoughtless man, Mr Douglas ; a 
 very thoughtless man. He makes a perfect inn of his 
 house. He never lies out of the town, trying who he 
 can pick up and bring home with him. It is seldom I 
 am so fortunate as to see such guests as Mr and Miss 
 Douglas of Glenfern Castle in my house," — with an 
 elegant bow to each, which, of course, was duly re- 
 turned. " But Mr Gawffaw would have shown more 
 consideration, both for you and me, had he apprised me 
 of the honour of your visit, instead of bringing you here 
 in this ill-bred, unceremonious manner. As for me, I 
 am too well accustomed to him to be hurt at these 
 things now. He has kept me in hot water, I may say, 
 since the day I married him ! " 
 
 In spite of the conciliatory manner in which this 
 agreeable address was made, Mr Douglas felt consider- 
 ably disconcerted, and again renewed his apologies, 
 adding something about hopes of being able to 
 proceed. 
 
 " Make no apologies, my dear sir," said the lady, 
 with what she deemed a most bewitching manner j " it 
 affords me the greatest pleasure to see any of your 
 family under my roof. I meant no reflection on you ; 
 it is entirely Mr Gawffaw that is to blame, in not 
 having apprised me of the honour of this visit, that I 
 might not have been caught in this deshabille; but I 
 was really so engaged by my studies," pointing to the 
 dirty novel, ** that I was quite unconscious of the lapse 
 of time." The guests felt more and more at a loss 
 what to say. But the lady was at none. Seeing Mr 
 Douglas still standing with his hat in his hand, and
 
 212 MARRIAGE. 
 
 his eye directed towards the door, she resumed her 
 discourse ; 
 
 " Pray be seated, Mr Douglas — I beg you will sit off 
 the door. Miss Douglas, I entreat you will walk in to 
 the fire — I hope you will consider yourself as quite at 
 home " — another elegant bend to each. " I only 
 regret that Mr Gawffaw's folly and ill-breeding should 
 have brought you into this disagreeable situation, Mr 
 Douglas. He is a well-meaning man, Mr Douglas, 
 and a good-hearted man ; but he is very deficient in 
 other respects, Mr Douglas." 
 
 Mr Douglas, happy to find any thing to which he 
 could assent, warmly joined in the eulogium on the 
 excellence of his friend's heart. It did not appear, 
 however, to give the satisfaction he expected. The 
 lady resumed with a sigh, — " Nobody can know Mr 
 Gawffaw's heart better than I do, Mr Douglas. It is 
 a good one, but it is far from being an elegant one ; it 
 is one in which I find no congeniality of sentiment with 
 my own. Indeed, Mr Gawffaw is no companion for 
 me, nor I for him, Mr Douglas — he is never happy in 
 my society ; and I really believe he would rather sit 
 down with the tinklers on the road-side, than spend a 
 day in my company." 
 
 A deep sigh followed ; but its pathos was drowned 
 in the obstreperous " ha, ha, ha ! " of her joyous help- 
 mate, as he bounced into the room, wiping his 
 forehead : 
 
 " Why, May, my dear, what have you been about 
 to-day ? Things have been all going to the deuce. 
 Why didn't you hinder these boys from sweein' the 
 gate off its hinges, and " 
 
 " Me hinder boys from sweein' gates, Mr Gawffaw ! 
 Do I look like as if I was capable of hindering boys 
 from sweein' gates. Miss Douglas ? " 
 
 " Well, my dear, you ought to look after your pigs a
 
 MARRIAGE. 213 
 
 little better. That jade, black Jess, has trod a parcel 
 of them to death, ha, ha, ha ! and *' 
 
 " Me look after pigs, Mr Gawifaw ! I'm really 
 astonished at you ! " again interrupted the lady, turning 
 pale with vexation. Then, with an affected giggle, 
 appealing to Mary, — " I leave you to judge. Miss 
 Douglas, if I look like a person made for running after 
 pigs ! '' 
 
 " Indeed," thought Mary, « you don't look like as 
 if you could do anything half so useful." 
 
 " Well, never mind the pigs, my dear ; only don't 
 give us any of them for dinner — ha, ha, ha ! — and. 
 May, when will you let us have it ? " 
 
 " Me let you have it, Mr Gawffaw ! I'm sure I 
 don't hinder you from having it when you please, only 
 you know I prefer late hours myself. I was always 
 accustomed to them in my poor father's life-time — he 
 never dined before four o'clock ; and I seldom knew 
 what it was to be in my bed before twelve o'clock at 
 night. Miss Douglas, till I married Mr Gawffaw." 
 
 Mary tried to look sorrowful, to hide the smile that 
 was dimpling her cheek. 
 
 " Come, let us have something to eat in the mean- 
 time, my dear." 
 
 "I'm sure you may eat the house, if you please, for 
 me, Mr Gawffaw ! What would you take. Miss 
 Douglas ? Pull the bell, — softly, Mr Gawffaw ! you 
 do every thing so violently." 
 
 A dirty maid-servant, with bare feet, answered the 
 summons. 
 
 " Where's Tom ? " demanded the lady, well know- 
 ing that Tom was afar ofi at some of the farm 
 operations. 
 
 " I ken na whar he's. He'll be aether at the 
 patatees, or the horses, I'se warran. Div ye want 
 him ? "
 
 214 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Bring some glasses," said her mistress, with an air 
 of great dignity. " Mr Gawffaw, you must see about the 
 wine yourself, since you have sent Tom out of the way." 
 
 Mr Gawffaw and his handmaid were soon heard in 
 an adjoining closet ; the one wondering where the screw 
 was, the other vociferating for a knife to cut the bread ; 
 while the mistress of this well-regulated mansion sought 
 to divert her guests' attention from what was passing, 
 by entertaining them with complaints of Mr Gawffaw's 
 noise, and her maid's insolence, till the parties appeared 
 to speak for themselves. 
 
 After being refreshed with some very sour wine and 
 stale bread, the gentlemen set off" on a survey of the 
 farm, and the ladies repaired to their toilettes. Mary's 
 simple dress was quickly adjusted ; and, upon descend- 
 ing, she found her uncle alone in what Mrs Gawff^aw 
 had shown to her as the drawing-room. He guessed 
 her curiosity to know something of her hosts ; and 
 therefore briefly informed her that Mrs Gawffaw was 
 the daughter of a trader in some manufacturing town, 
 who had lived in opulence, and died insolvent. During 
 his life, his daughter had eloped with Bob Gawffaw, 
 then a gay lieutenant in a marching regiment, who had 
 been esteemed a very lucky fellow in getting the pretty 
 Miss Croaker, with the prospect of ten thousand pounds. 
 None thought more highly of her husband's good 
 fortune than the lady herself; and though her fortune 
 never was realised, she gave herself all the airs ot 
 having been the making of his. At this time, Mr 
 Gawffaw was a reduced lieutenant, living upon a small 
 paternal property, which he pretended to farm ; but the 
 habits ©f a military life, joined to a naturally social dis- 
 position, were rather inimical to the pursuits of agricul- 
 ture, and most of his time was spent in loitering about 
 
 the village of G , where he generally contrived, 
 
 either to pick up a guest or procure a dinner.
 
 MARRIAGE. 21$ 
 
 Mrs GawfFaw despised her husband — had weak 
 nerves and headaches — was above managing her house 
 — read novels — dyed ribands — and altered her gowns 
 according to every pattern she could see or hear of. 
 
 Such were Mr and Mrs Gawffaw ; one of the many 
 ill-assorted couples in this world — joined, not matched. 
 A sensible man would have curbed her folly and 
 peevishness : a good-tempered woman would have made 
 his home comfortable, and rendered him more domestic. 
 
 The dinner was such as might have been expected 
 from the previous specimens — bad of its kind, cold, 
 ill-dressed, and slovenly set down ; but Mrs GawfFaw 
 seemed satisfied with herself and it. 
 
 " This is very fine mutton, Mr Douglas, and not 
 under-done to most people's tastes — and this fowl, I 
 have no doubt, will eat well. Miss Douglas, though 
 it is not so white as some I have seen." 
 
 " The fowl, my dear, looks as if it had been the 
 great-grandmother of this sheep — ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " For any sake, Mr Gawffaw, make less noise, or 
 my head will split in a thousand pieces ! " putting her 
 hands to it, as if to hold the frail tenement together. 
 This was always her refuge when at a loss for a reply. 
 
 A very ill-concocted pudding next called forth her 
 approbation. 
 
 " This pudding should be good ; for it is the same I 
 used to be so partial to in my poor father's life-time ! 
 when I was used to every delicacy. Miss Douglas, that 
 money could purchase." 
 
 " But you thought me the greatest delicacy of all, 
 my dear, ha, ha, ha ! for you left all your other deli- 
 cacies for me, ha, ha, ha ! — what do you say to that, 
 May ?— ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 May's reply consisted in putting her hands to her 
 head, with an air of inexpressible vexation ; and, find- 
 ing all her endeavours to be elegant frustrated by tlie
 
 2l6 MARRIAGE. 
 
 overpowering vulgarity of her husband, she remained 
 silent during the remainder of the repast ; solacing her- 
 self with complacent glances at her yellow silk gown, 
 and adjusting the gold chains and necklaces that adorned 
 her bosom. 
 
 Poor Mary was doomed to a tete-a-tete with her 
 during the whole evening ; for Mr GawfFaw was too 
 happy luith his friend, and luithout his wife, to quit the 
 dining-room till a late hour ; and then he was so much 
 exhilarated, that she could almost have joined Mrs 
 GawfFaw in her exclamation of " For any sake, Mr 
 GawfFaw, have mercy on my head 1 " 
 
 The night, however, like all other nights, had a 
 close ; and Mrs GawfFaw, having once more enjoyed the 
 felicity of finding herself in company at twelve o'clock 
 at night, at length withdrew ; and having apologised, 
 and hoped, and feared, for another hour in Mary's 
 apartment, she finally left her to the blessings of solitude 
 and repose. 
 
 As Mr Douglas was desirous of reaching Edinburgh 
 the following day, he had, in spite of the urgent re- 
 monstrances of his friendly host, and the elegant im- 
 portunities of his lady, ordered the carriage at an early 
 hour ; and Mary was too eager to quit HowfFend to 
 keep it waiting, Mr GawfFaw was in readiness to 
 hand her in, but fortunately Mrs GawfFaw's head did 
 not permit of her rising. With much the same hearty 
 laugh that had welcomed their meeting, honest GawfFaw 
 now saluted the departure of his friend ; and, as he 
 leant whistling over his gate, he ruminated sweet and 
 bitter thoughts as to the destinies of the day — whether 
 he should solace himself with a good dinner, and the 
 company of Bailie Merrythought, at the Cross- Keys 
 
 in G , or put up with cold mutton, and May, at 
 
 home
 
 MARRIAGE. 217 
 
 Chapter Tc%%ii)^ 
 
 Eflina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 
 All hail thy palaces and tow'rs, 
 Where once, beneath a monarch's feet, 
 Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs ! 
 
 Burns. 
 
 THE travellers had viewed with interest the memor- 
 able localities of Stirling Castle, and looked 
 with delight from its rocky ramparts on the 
 magnificent panorama which lay stretched around. They 
 now stood amidst the mouldering walls of Linlithgow 
 palace, as the setting sun gilded them with its last rays, 
 and shed its mellow radiance over the green bank on 
 which they stand. That is now crumbling into mere 
 masses of mossy herbage ; yet there may still be traced 
 those terraced gardens where once flourished England's 
 proud rose and France's fair Jleur-de-Iis, but where 
 Scotland's wild blue-bell now hangs its lonely head. 
 The farewell gleam of light quivered on the stems of 
 the aged sycamores which surmount the grassy knolls, 
 and whose shrivelled arms and scanty foliage seem, to 
 the fanciful eye, as though now, in their old age, 
 stretched forth to guard the kingly walls which had 
 ©nee sheltered their green heads from the storm. The 
 tranquil waters of the fair Loch lay in deep-blue 
 shadow beneath. It was a scene to be remembered, 
 and Mary felt the impressiveness of the contrast, as she 
 turned from the enduring loveliness of nature to retrace 
 her steps through the gloom and vacuity of the roofless 
 towers and desolate halls of this, once the fairest " be- 
 yond compare " of Scotland's pleasant palaces. 
 
 But the young enthusiast's feelings were still more 
 vividly excited on entering the Scottish metropolis. An 
 inhabitant of London or Paris would smile to hear
 
 2l8 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Edinburgh styled a great city ; but, to one born and 
 bred amid nature's solitudes, its size seemed vast, its 
 buildings noble, its beauty (as in truth it is) surpassing. 
 But beyond all these were the historic and romantic 
 associations which crowded upon her mind, and to 
 which youth and imagination love to give " a local 
 habitation and a name ; " and visions of olden time 
 seemed to start into life, with all their picturesque 
 pageantry. 
 
 " And this was once a gay court ! " thought she, as 
 they traversed the dull arcades of its deserted palace, 
 and listened to the dreary sounds of the sentinel's foot- 
 steps. " How changed since that bright epoch when 
 here shone the 
 
 Star of the Stuart line — accompHsh'd James ! 
 
 And here, where all is now so sad and still, were once 
 
 The banquet and the song ; 
 By day the tourney, and by night 
 The merry dance trac'd fast and light, 
 The masquers quaint, the pageant bright, 
 The revel loud and long I 
 
 And on this very spot on which I now stand once stood 
 the hapless Mary Stuart, in all her bright and queenly 
 beauty ! Her eye beheld the same objects on which 
 mine now rests ; her hand has touched the draperies 
 which I now hold in mine : — these frail memorials 
 remain; but what, alas! remains of Scotland's queen, 
 but blood-stained records and a blighted fame ! " 
 
 Even the fatal chamber, the scene of Rizzio's 
 murder, possessed a nameless charm for Mary's vivid 
 imagination. She had not entirely escaped the super- 
 stitions of the country in which she had lived ; and she 
 readily yielded her assent to the asseverations of her 
 guide, as to its being the bond fide blood of David
 
 MARRIAGE. 2I9 
 
 Rizzio, which, for nearly three hundred years, had 
 resisted all human efforts to efface it. 
 
 " My credulity is so harmless,'* said she, in answer 
 to her uncle's attempt to laugh her out of her belief, 
 " that I surely may be permitted to indulge it — 
 especially since, I confess, I feel a sort of indescribable 
 pleasure in it." 
 
 " Tou take a pleasure in the sight of blood! " ex- 
 claimed Mr Douglas, in astonishment, — " you, who 
 turn pale at sight of a cut finger, and shudder at a leg 
 of mutton with the juice in it ! '* 
 
 " Oh, mere modern vulgar blood is very shocking," 
 answered Mary, with a smile ; " but observe how this 
 is mellowed by time into a tint that could not offend 
 the most fastidious fine lady : besides," added she, in a 
 graver tone, " I own I love to believe in things super- 
 natural ; it seems to connect us more with another 
 world, than when everything is seen to proceed in the 
 mere ordinary course of nature, as it is called. I cannot 
 bear to imagine a dreary chasm betwixt the inhabitants 
 of this world and beings of a higher sphere ; I love to 
 fancy myself surrounded by " 
 
 " I wish you would remember you are surrounded by 
 rational beings, and not fall into such rhapsodies," said 
 her uncle, glancing at a party, who stood near them, 
 jesting upon all the objects which Mary had been re- 
 garding with so much veneration. " But, come, you 
 have been long enough here. Let us try whether a 
 breeze on the Calton Hill will not dispel these cobwebs 
 from your brain." 
 
 The day, though cold, was clear and sunny ; and the 
 lovely spectacle before them shone forth in all its gay 
 magnificence. The blue waters lay calm and motionless. 
 The opposite shores glowed in a thousand varied tints oi 
 wood and plain, rock and mountain, cultured field, and 
 purple moor. Beneath, the old town reared its dark
 
 220 MARRIAGE. 
 
 brow, and the new one stretched its golden lines ; while, 
 all around, the varied charms of nature lay scattered in 
 that profusion which nature's hand alone can bestow. 
 
 " Oh ! this is exquisite ! " exclaimed Mary, after a 
 long pause, in which she had been riveted in admiration 
 of the scene before her. " And you are in the right, 
 my dear uncle. The ideas which are inspired by the 
 contemplation of such a spectacle as this, are far — oh, 
 how far ! — superior to those excited by the mere works 
 of art. There, I can, at best, think but of the inferior 
 agents of Providence : here, the soul rises from nature 
 up to nature's God." 
 
 " You will certainly be taken for a Methodist, Mary, 
 if you talk in this manner," said Mr Douglas, with some 
 marks of disquiet, as he turned round at the salutation 
 of a fat elderly gentleman, whom he presently recognised 
 as Bailie Broadfoot. 
 
 The first salutations over, Mr Douglas's fears of 
 Mary having been overheard recurred, and he felt 
 anxious to remove any unfavourable impression with 
 regard to his own principles, at least, from the mind of 
 the enlightened magistrate. 
 
 " Your fine views here have set my niece absolutely 
 raving," said he with a smile ; " but I tell her it is only 
 in romantic minds that fine scenery inspires romantic 
 ideas. I dare say many of the worthy inhabitants of 
 Edinburgh walk here with no other idea than that of 
 sharpening their appetites for dinner." 
 
 " Nae doot," said the bailie, "it's a most capital 
 place for that. Were it no' for that, I ken nae muckle 
 use it would be of." 
 
 " You speak from experience of its virtues in that 
 respect, I suppose ? " said Mr Douglas, gravely. 
 
 " 'Deed as to that, I canna compleen. At times, to 
 be sure, I am troubled with a little kind of squeamish- 
 neas after our public interteenments ; but three rounds
 
 MARRIAGE. 221 
 
 o' the hill sets a' to rights." Then observing Mary's 
 eyes exploring, as he supposed, the town of Leith, 
 " You see that prospeck to nae advantage the day, 
 miss," said he. " If the glass-houses had been workin', 
 it would have looked as weel again. Ye hae nae glass- 
 houses in the Highlands ; na, na." 
 
 The bailie had a share in the concern ; and the vol- 
 canic clouds of smoke that issued from thence were far 
 more interesting subjects of speculation to him than all 
 the eruptions of Vesuvius or Etna. But there was 
 nothing to charm the lingering view to-day ; and he 
 therefore proposed their taking a look at Bridewell, 
 which, next to the smoke from the glass-houses, he 
 reckoned the object most worthy of notice. It was, 
 indeed, deserving of the praises bestowed upon it ; and 
 Mary was giving her whole attention to the details of 
 it, when she was suddenly startled by hearing her own 
 name wailed in piteous accents from one of the lower 
 cells, and, upon turning round, she discovered in the 
 prisoner the son of one of the tenants of Glenfern. 
 Duncan M'Free had been always looked upon as a 
 very honest lad in the Highlands, but he had left home 
 to push his fortune as a pedlar ; and the temptations oi 
 the low country having proved too much for his virtue, 
 poor Duncan was now expiating his offence in durance 
 vile. 
 
 " I shall have a pretty account of you to carry to 
 Glenfern," said Mr Douglas, regarding the culprit with 
 his sternest look. 
 
 " O, 'deed, sir, it's no' my fau't ! " answered Duncan, 
 blubbering bitterly ; " but there's nae freedom at a' in 
 this country. Och, an' I were oot o't ! Ane canna 
 ca' their head their ain in't; for ye canna lift the bouk 
 o' a prin, but they're a' upon ye." And a fresh burst 
 of sorrow ensued. 
 
 Finding the peccadillo was of a venial nature, Mr
 
 222 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Douglas besought the bailie to use his interest to procure 
 the enfranchisement of this his vassal, which Mr Broad- 
 foot, happy to oblige a customer, promised should be 
 obtained on the following day ; and Duncan's emotions 
 being rather clamorous, the party found it necessary to 
 withdraw. 
 
 " And noo," said the bailie, as they emerged from 
 this place of dole and durance, " will ye step up to the 
 Monument, and tak a rest and some refreshment ? " 
 
 " Rest and refreshment in a monument ! " exclaimed 
 Mr Douglas. " Excuse me, my good friend, but we 
 are not inclined to bait there yet a while." 
 
 The bailie did not comprehend the joke, and he pro- 
 ceeded in his own drawling humdrum accent to assure 
 them that the Monument was a most convenient place. 
 
 " It was erected in honour of Lord Nelson's 
 memory," said he, " and is let to a pastry-cook and 
 confectioner, where you can always find some trifles to 
 treat the ladies, such as pies and custards, and berries, 
 and these sort of things ; but we passed an order in 
 the cooncil that there should be nothing of a spiritous 
 nature introduced, for, if once spirits got admittance, 
 there's no' saying what might happen." 
 
 This was a fact which none of the party were dis- 
 posed to dispute ; and the bailie, triumphing in his 
 dominion over the spirits, shuffled on before, to do the 
 honours of the place, appropriated at one and the same 
 time to the manes of a hero and the making of minced 
 pies. The regale was admirable ; and Mary could not 
 help thinking times were improved, and that it was a 
 better thing to eat tarts in Lord Nelson's monument, 
 than to have been poisoned in Julius Caesar's.
 
 MARRIAGE. 223 
 
 Having a tongue rough as a cat, and biting like an adder, 
 and all their reproofs are direct scoldings, their common inter- 
 course is open contumely. 
 
 Jeremy Taylor. 
 
 " ^TpHOUGH last, not least of Nature's works, I 
 i must now introduce you to a friend of mine,'* 
 said Mr Douglas, as, the bailie having made 
 his bow, they bent their steps towards the Castle Hill. 
 " Mrs Violet Macshake is an aunt of my mother's, 
 whom you must often have heard of, and the last re- 
 maining branch of the noble race of Girnachgowl." 
 
 " I am afraid she is rather a formidable person, then ?" 
 said Mary. 
 
 Her uncle hesitated — " No, not formidable — only 
 rather particular, as all old people are ; but she is very 
 good-hearted." 
 
 " I understand, in other words, she is very disagree- 
 able. All ill-tempered people, I observe, have the 
 character of being good-hearted ; or else all good- 
 hearted people are ill-tempered, — I cannot tell which." 
 
 " It is more than reputation with her," said Mr 
 Douglas, " for she is, in reality, a very good-hearted 
 woman, as I experienced when a boy at college. Many 
 a crown-piece and half-guinea I used to get from her : 
 — many a scold, to be sure, went along with them ; but 
 that, I dare say, I deserved. Besides, she is very rich, 
 and I am her reputed heir ; therefore, gratitude and 
 self-interest combine to render her extremely amiable 
 in my estimation." 
 
 They had now reached the airy dwelling where Mrs 
 Macshake resided, and having rung, the door was at 
 length most deliberately opened by an ancient, sour- 
 visaged, long-waisted female, who ushered them into an
 
 224 MARRIAGE. 
 
 apartment, the coup d'ail of which struck a chill to 
 Mary's heart. It was a good-sized room, with a bare 
 sufficiency of small-legged dining-tables, and lank hair- 
 cloth chairs, ranged in high order round the walls. 
 Although the season was advanced, and the air piercing 
 cold, the grate stood smiling in all the charms of polished 
 steel ; and the mistress of the mansion was seated by the 
 side of it in an arm-chair, still in its summer position. 
 She appeared to have no other occupation than what her 
 own meditations afforded ; for a single glance sufficed 
 to show, that not a vestige of book or work was harboured 
 there. She was a tall large-boned woman, whom even 
 Time's iron hand had scarcely bent, as she merely stooped 
 at the shoulders. She had a drooping snuffy nose — a 
 long turned-up chin — small quick grey eyes ; and her face 
 projected far beyond her figure, with an expression of 
 shrewd restless curiosity. She wore a mode (not a-la- 
 mode) bonnet, and cardinal of the same ; a pair of clogs 
 over her shoes, and black silk mittens on her arms. 
 
 As soon as she recognised Mr Douglas, she welcomed 
 him with much cordiality, shook him long and heartily 
 by the hand — patted him on the back — looked into his 
 face with much seeming satisfaction ; and, in short, gave 
 all the demonstrations of gladness usual with gentle- 
 women of a certain age. Her pleasure, however, ap- 
 peared to be rather an impromptu than an habitual feel- 
 ing ; for, as the surprise wore off, her visage resumed its 
 harsh and sarcastic expression, and she seemed eager to 
 efface any agreeable impression her reception might have 
 excited. 
 
 " An' wha thought o' seein' you ? " said she, in a 
 quick gabbling voice ; " what's brought you to the 
 toon ? Are ye come to spend your honest faither's 
 siller, ere he's weel cauld in his grave, poor man ? " 
 
 Mr Douglas explained, that it was upon account of 
 his niece's health.
 
 MARRIAGE. 225 
 
 " Health ! '* repeated she, with a sardonic smile, " it 
 wad mak an ool laugh to hear the wark that's made 
 aboot young fowk's health noo-a-days. I wonder what 
 ye're aw made o'," grasping Mary's arm in her great 
 bony hand — " a wheen puir, feckless windlestraes — ye 
 maun awa to Ingland for your healths. — Set ye up ! I 
 wunder what cam o' the lasses i' my time, that but to 
 bide at hame ? And whilk o' ye will e'er live to see 
 ninety-sax, like me ? — Health ! he, he ! " 
 
 Mary, glad of a pretence to indulge the mirth the old 
 lady's manner and appearance had excited, joined most 
 heartily in the laugh. 
 
 " Tak afF your bannet, bairn, an' let me see your face ; 
 wha can tell what like ye are, wi' that snule o' a thing 
 on your head ? " Then, after taking an accurate survey 
 of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse — " Weel, it's a 
 mercy, I see you hae neither the red head nor the muckle 
 feet o' the Douglases. I kenna whether your father has 
 them or no. I ne'er set een on him : neither him nor 
 his braw leddy thought it worth their while to ask after 
 me ; but I was at nae loss, by aw accounts." 
 
 " You have not asked after any of your Glenfern 
 friends," said Mr Douglas, hoping to touch a more 
 sympathetic chord. 
 
 " Time enough — will ye let me draw my breath, 
 man ? — fowk canna say awthing at ance. An' ye but 
 to hae an Inglish wife too, a Scotch lass wadna serve 
 ye. An' your wean, I'se warran', it's ane o' the 
 world's wonders — it's been unca lang o' cumnrin' — 
 he, he ! " 
 
 " He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, 
 poor fellow ! " said Mr Douglas, in allusion to his 
 father's death. 
 
 " An' wha's faut was that ? — I ne'er heard tell the, 
 like o't, to hae the bairn kirsened an' its grandfaither 
 deein' ! — But fowk are neither bom, nor kirsened, 
 
 L P
 
 226 MARRIAGE. 
 
 nor do they wad or dee as they used to do — awthing*s 
 changed." 
 
 " You must, Indeed, have witnessed many changes," 
 observed Mr Douglas, rather at a loss how to utter any 
 thing of a conciliatory nature. 
 
 " Changes ! — weel a wat, I sometimes wunder if it's 
 the same waurld, an' if it's my ain head that's upon my 
 shoothers." 
 
 " But with these changes you must also have seen 
 many improvements .'' " said Mary, in a tone of 
 diffidence. 
 
 " Impruvements ! " turning sharply round upon her, 
 ** what ken ye about impruvements, bairn ? A bonny 
 impruvement, or else no, to see tyleyors and sclaters 
 leavin', whar I mind dukes an' yearls ! An' that great 
 glowrin' new toon there," pointing out of her windows, 
 " whar I used to sit an' look out at bonny green parks, 
 and see the cows railket, and the bits o* bairnies rowin' 
 an' tummlin', an' the lasses trampin' in their tubs — what 
 see I noo, but stane an' lime, an' stoor an' dirt, an' idle 
 cheils, an' dinket-oot madams prancin'. — Impruvements, 
 indeed ! " 
 
 Mary found she was not likely to advance her uncle's 
 fortune by the judiciousness of her remarks, therefore 
 prudently resolved to hazard no more. Mr Douglas, 
 who was more au fait to the prejudices of old age, and 
 who was always amused with her bitter remarks when 
 they did not touch himself, encouraged her to continue 
 the conversation by some observation on the prevailing 
 manners. 
 
 " Manners ! " repeated she, with a contemptuous 
 laugh, " what caw ye manners noo, for I dinna ken ? 
 ilk ane gangs bang in to their neebor's house, an' bang 
 out o't, as it war a chynge-house ; an' as for the master 
 o't, he's no o' sae muckle value as the flunky behind his 
 chyre. In my grandfaither's time, as I hae heard him
 
 MARRIAGE. 227 
 
 tell, ilka master o* a faamily had his ain seat in his ain 
 house, ay ! an' sat wi' his hat on his head before the 
 best o' the land, an' had his ain dish, an' was ay helpit 
 first, an' keepit up his authority as a man should do. 
 Paurents war paurents then — bairns dardna set up their 
 gabs before them than as they do now. They ne'er 
 presumed to say their heads war their ain i' thae days ; 
 — wife an' servants — retainers an' childer, aw trummelt 
 i' the presence o' their head." 
 
 Here a long pinch of snuf^ caused a pause in the old 
 lady's harangue ; but, after having duly wiped her nose 
 with her coloured handkerchief, and shook off all the 
 particles that might be presumed to have lodged upon 
 her cardinal, she resumed : — 
 
 " An' nae word o' ony o' your sisters gawn to get 
 husbands yet ? They tell me they're but coorse lasses : 
 an' wha'll tak ill-farred, tocherless queans, where there's 
 wealth o' bonny faces an' lang purses i' the market ? — 
 he, he ! " Then resuming her scrutiny of Mary — 
 " An' I'se warran' ye'll be looking for an Inghsh sweet- 
 heart too ; that'll be what's takin' ye awa to Ingland." 
 
 " On the contrary," said Mr Douglas, seeing Mary 
 was too much frightened to answer for herself — " On 
 the contrary, Mary declares she will never marry any 
 but a true Highlander ; one who wears the dirk and 
 plaid, and has the second-sight. And the nuptials are 
 to be celebrated with all the pomp of feudal times ; 
 with bagpipes, and bonfires, and gatherings of clans, 
 and roasted sheep, and barrels of whisky, and " 
 
 " Weel a wat an she's i' the right there," interrupted 
 Mrs Macshake, with more complacency than she had 
 yet shown. "They may caw them what they like, 
 but there's nae weddins now. Wha's the better o'. 
 them but innkepers and chaise - drivers ? I wudnae 
 count mysel married i' the hiddlins way they gang 
 aboot it noo."
 
 228 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " I dare say you remember these things done in a 
 very different style ? '* said Mr Douglas. 
 
 " I dinna mind them when they war at the best ; but 
 I hae heard my mother tell what a bonny ploy was at 
 her weddin'. I canna tell you how mony was at it ; 
 mair than the room wad baud, ye may be sure, for 
 every relation an' friend o' baith sides war there, as 
 weel they should ; an' aw in full dress : the leddies in 
 their hoops on, an' some o' them had sat up aw night 
 te hae their heads drest ; for they hadnae thae pooket- 
 like taps ye hae noo," looking with contempt at Mary's 
 Grecian contour. " An' the bride's gown was aw 
 sewed ow'r wi' favors, frae the tap down to the tail, 
 an' aw round the neck, an' about the sleeves ; and, as 
 soon as the ceremony was ow'r, ilk ane ran, an' rugget 
 an' rave at her for the favors, till they hardly left the 
 gown upon her back. Then they didnae run awa as 
 they do now, ^ut six an' thirty o' them sat down to a 
 grand dinner, and there was a ball at night, an' ilka 
 night till Sabbath cam round ; an' than the bride an' 
 the bridegroom, drest in their wed din' suits, and aw 
 their friends in theirs wi' their favors on their breasts, 
 walked in procession to the kirk. An' was nae that 
 something like a weddin' ? It was worth while to be 
 married i' thae days — he, he ! " "^ 
 
 " The wedding seems to have been admirably con- 
 ducted," said Mr Douglas, with much solemnity. 
 " The christening, I presume, would be the next dis- 
 tinguished event in the family." 
 
 " Troth, Archie — an' ye should keep your thumb 
 upon christenins as lang's ye live ; yours was a bonny 
 christening or else no ! I hae heard o' mony things, 
 but a bairn christened whan its grandfather was in the 
 dead-thraw, I ne'er heard tell o' before." Then 
 
 * These particulars were taken from the MS. reminiscences 
 of an old iady — one of the aristocracy of her day.
 
 MARRIAGE. 229 
 
 observing the indignation that spread over Mr Douglas's 
 face, she quickly resumed, "An' so you think the 
 kirsnin' was the next ploy ? — Na ; the cryin was a 
 ploy, for the leddies didnae keep themselves up than as 
 they do now ; but the day after the bairn was born, the 
 leddy sat up in her bed, wi' her fan in her hand ; an' 
 aw her fiiends cam an' stood round her an' drank her 
 health an' the bairn's. Than, at the leddy's recovery, 
 there was a graund supper gien that they caw'd the cum- 
 merfealsf an' there was a great pyramid o' hens at the 
 tap o' the table, an' anither pyramid o' ducks at the 
 foot, an' a muckle stoup fu' o' posset i' the middle, an' 
 aw kinds o' sweeties doon the sides ; an' as soon as 
 ilk ane had eatin' their fill, they aw flew to the sweeties, 
 an' fought, an' strave, an' wrastled for them, leddies an' 
 gentlemen an' aw ; for the brag was, wha could pocket 
 maist ; an' whiles they wad hae the cloth aff the table, 
 an' awthing in the middle of the floor, and the chairs 
 upside down. Oo ! muckle gude diversion, I'se warran', 
 was at the cummerfeals. — Than whan they had drank 
 the stoup dry, that ended the ploy. As for the kirsnin', 
 that was aye whar it should be — in the house o' God, 
 an' aw the kith an' kin by in full dress, an' a band o' 
 maiden kimmers aw in white ; an* a bonny sight it was, 
 as I've heard my mother tell." 
 
 Mr Douglas, who was now rather tired of the old 
 lady's reminiscences, availed himself of the opportunity 
 of a fresh pinch to rise and take leave. 
 
 " Oo, what's takin' ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry ? 
 Sit doon there," laying her hand upon his arm, " an' 
 rest ye, an' tak a glass o' wine, an' a bit bread ; or may 
 be," turning to Mary, "ye wad rather hae a drap broth 
 to warm ye. What gars ye look sae blae, bairn ? I'm 
 sure it's no cauld ; but ye're just like the rest : ye gang 
 aw skiltm' about the streets half naked, an' than ye 
 maun sit an' birsle yoursels before the fire at hame."
 
 230 MARRIAGE. 
 
 She had now shuffled along to the further end of the 
 room, and, opening a press, took out wine, and a plate- 
 ful of various-shaped articles of bread, which she handed 
 to Mary. 
 
 " Hae, bairn — tak a cookie — tak it up — what are ye 
 fear'dfor! — it'll no bite ye. — Here's t'ye, Glenfern, 
 an' your wife, an' your wean ; puir thing, it's no had a 
 very chancy ootset, weel a wat." 
 
 The wine being drunk, and the cookies discussed, Mr 
 Douglas made another attempt to withdraw, but in vain. 
 
 " Canna ye sit still a wee, an' let me ask after my 
 auld friends at Glenfern ? How's Grizzy, an' Jacky, 
 an' Nicky ? — aye workin' awa at the drugs ! I ne'er 
 gied a bawbee for drugs aw my days, an' see if ony of 
 them will rin a race wi' me whan they're near five 
 
 score." 
 
 Mr Douglas here paid some compliments upon her 
 appearance, which were pretty graciously received ; and 
 added that he was the bearer of a letter from his aunt 
 Grizzy, which he would send along with a roebuck and 
 brace of moor-game. 
 
 " If your roebuck's nae better than your last, atweel 
 it's no worth the sendin' : poor dry fissinless stuff, no 
 worth the chewin' ; weel a wat, I begrudged my teeth 
 on't. Your mulrfowl war nae that ill, but they're no 
 worth the carryin' ; they're dog-cheap i' the market 
 now, so it's nae great compliment. If ye had brought 
 me a leg o' gude mutton, or a cauler salmon, there 
 would hae been some sense in't ; but ye're ane o' the 
 fowk that'll ne'er harry yoursel' wi' your presents ; it's 
 but the pickle powther they cost ye, an' I'se warran' 
 ye're thinkin' mair o' your ain diversion than o' my 
 stamick, whan ye're at the shootin' o' them, poor 
 beasts." 
 
 Mr Douglas had borne the various indignities levelled 
 against himself and his family with a philosophy that
 
 MARRIAGE. 23 1 
 
 had no parallel in his life before, but to this attack upon 
 his game he was not proof. His colour rose, his eyes 
 flashed fire, and something resembling an oath burst from 
 his lips as he strode indignantly towards the door. 
 
 His friend, however, was too nimble for him. She 
 stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant 
 laugh, as she patted him on the back, " So I see ye're 
 just the auld man, Archie, — aye ready to tak' the 
 strums, an' ye dinna get aw thing your ain way. Mony 
 a time I had to fleech you out o' the dorts whan ye was 
 a callant. Do ye mind how ye was affronted because 
 I set you doon to a cauld pigeon-pie an' a tanker o' 
 tippenny, ae night to your foweroors, before some 
 leddies ? — he, he, he ! Weel a wat, ye' re wife maun 
 hae her ain adoos to manage ye, for ye're a cumstairy 
 chield, Archie." 
 
 Mr Douglas still looked as if he was irresolute whether 
 to laugh or be angry. 
 
 " Come, come, sit ye doon there, till I speak to this 
 bairn," said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining 
 bed-chamber, which wore the same aspect of chilly 
 neatness as the one they had quitted. Then, pulling a 
 huge bunch of keys from her pocket, she opened a 
 drawer, out of which she took a pair of diamond ear- 
 rings. " Hae, bairn," said she, as she stuffed them into 
 Mary's hand ; " they belanged to your father's grand- 
 mother. She was a gude woman, an' had four-an'- 
 twenty sons and dochters, an' I wish you nae war for- 
 cune than just to hae as mony. But mind ye," with a 
 shake of her bony finger, " they maun a' be Scots. If 
 I thought ye wad marry ony pock-puddin', fient haed 
 wad ye hae gotten frae me. — Now, baud your tongue, 
 and dinna deive me wi' thanks,"" almost pushing her into 
 the parlour again ; " and since ye're gaun awa' the morn, 
 I'll see nae mair o' you — so fare ye weel. But, Archie, 
 ye maun come an' tak your breakfast wi' me. — I have
 
 232 MARRIAGE. 
 
 muckle to say to you ; but ye manna be sae hard upon 
 my baps as ye used to be," with a facetious grin to her 
 mollified favourite, as they shook hands and parted. 
 
 " Well, how do you like Mrs Macshake, Mary ? " 
 asked her uncle, as they walked home. 
 
 " That is a cruel question, uncle," answered she, 
 with a smile. " My gratitude and my taste are at such 
 variance," displaying her splendid gift, " that I know 
 not how to reconcile them." 
 
 " That is always the case with those whom Mrs 
 Macshake has obliged," returned Mr Douglas. " She 
 does many liberal things, but in so ungracious a manner, 
 that people are never sure whether they are obliged or 
 insulted by her. But the way in which she receives 
 kindness is still worse. Could any thing equal her im- 
 pertinence about my roebuck ? — I have a good mind 
 never to enter her door again ! " 
 
 Mary could scarcely preserve her gravity at her 
 uncle's indignation, which seemed so disproportioned to 
 the cause. But, to turn the current of his ideas, she 
 remarked, that he had certainly been at pains to select 
 two admirable specimens of her countrywomen for her. 
 
 " I don't think 1 shall soon forget either Mrs 
 GawfFaw or Mrs Macshake," said she laughing. 
 
 " 1 hope you won't carry away the impression, that 
 these two lusus natura are specimens of Scotch women ? " 
 said her uncle. *' The former, indeed, is rather a sort 
 of weed that infests every soil — the latter, to be sure, is 
 an indigenous plant. I question if she would have 
 arrived at such perfection in a more cultivated field, or 
 genial clime. She was born at a time when Scotland 
 was very different from what it is now. Female educa- 
 tion was little attended to, even in families of the highest 
 rank ; consequently, the ladies of those days possess a 
 raciness (or it may be a coarseness) in their manners and 
 ideas that we should vainly seek for in this age of culti-
 
 MARRIAGE. 233 
 
 vation and refinement. Had your time permitted, you 
 could have seen much good society here, equal, perhaps, 
 to what is to be found any where else, as far as mental 
 cultivation is concerned. But you will have leisure for 
 that when you return.'* 
 
 Mary acquiesced with a sigh. Return was to her still 
 a melancholy-sounding word. It reminded her of all 
 she had left — of the anguish of separation — the dreari- 
 ness of absence ; and all these painful feelings were 
 renewed, in their utmost bitterness, when the time ap- 
 proached for her to bid adieu to her uncle. Lord 
 Courtland's carriage, and two respectable-looking ser- 
 vants, awaited her ; and the following morning she 
 commenced her journey, in all the anguish of a heart 
 that fondly clings to its native home. 
 
 ■ ■ Nor only by the warmth 
 
 And soothing sunshine oi delightful things, 
 
 Do minds grow up and flourish. 
 
 Akenside. 
 
 So iound is worse than lost. 
 
 Addison. 
 
 AFTER parting with the last of her beloved rela- 
 tives, Mary tried to think only of the happiness 
 that awaited her in a reunion with her mother 
 and sister, and she gave herself up to the blissful reveries 
 of a young and ardent imagination. Mrs Douglas had 
 sought to repress, rather than excite, her sanguine ex- 
 pectations ; but vainly is the experience of others 
 employed in moderating the enthusiasm of a glowing 
 heart. Experience cannot be imparted : we may render ' 
 the youthful mind prematurely cautious, or meanly sus-
 
 234 MARRIAGE. 
 
 picious, but the experience of a pure and enlightened 
 mind is the result of observation, matured by time. 
 
 The journey, like most modern journeys, was per- 
 formed in comfort and safety ; and, late one evening, 
 Mary found herself at the goal of her wishes — at the 
 threshold of the house that contained her mother ! One 
 idea filled her mind ; but that idea called up a thousand 
 emotions. 
 
 " I am now to meet my mother ! " thought she ; and, 
 unconscious of every thing else, she was assisted from 
 the carriage, and conducted into the house. A door 
 was thrown open, but, shrinking from the glare of 
 light and sound of voices that assailed her, she stood 
 dazzled and dismayed, till she beheld a figure approach- 
 ing that she guessed to be her mother. Her heart beat 
 violently — a film was upon her eyes — she made an effort 
 to reach her mother's arms, and sank lifeless on her bosom ! 
 
 Lady Juliana, for such it was, doubted not but that 
 her daughter was really dead ; for, though she talked of 
 fainting every hour of the day herself, still, what is 
 emphatically called a dead faint, was a spectacle no 
 less strange than shocking to her. She was, therefore, 
 sufficiently alarmed and overcome to behave in a very 
 interesting manner; and some yearnings of pity even 
 possessed her heart, as she beheld her daughter's lifeless 
 form extended before her — her beautiful, though in- 
 animate, features half hid by the profusion of golden 
 ringlets that fell around her. But these kindly feelings 
 were of short duration ; for no sooner was the nature of 
 her daughter's insensibility ascertained, than all her 
 former hostility returned, as she found every one's atten- 
 tion directed to Mary, and she herself entirely over- 
 looked in the general interest she had excited ; and her 
 displeasure was still further increased, as Mary, at length 
 slowly unclosing her eyes, stretched out her hands, and 
 faintly articulated — " My mother ! "
 
 MARRIAGE. 235 
 
 ** Mother ! What a hideous vulgar appellation ! '* 
 thought the fashionable parent to herself! and, instead 
 of answering her daughter's appeal, she hastily proposed 
 that she should be conveyed to her own apartment : 
 then, summoning her maid, she consigned her to her 
 care, slightly touching her cheek as she wished her good 
 night, and returned to the card-table. Adelaide, too, 
 resumed her station at the harp, as if nothing had hap- 
 pened ; but Lady Emily attended her cousin to her room 
 — embraced her again and again, as she assured her she 
 loved her already, she was so like her dear Edward ; 
 then, after satisfying herself that everything was com- 
 fortable, affectionately kissed her, and withdrew. 
 
 Bodily fatigue got the better of mental agitation ; 
 and Mary slept soundly, and awoke refreshed. " Can 
 it be," thought she, as she tried to collect her bewil- 
 dered thoughts, " can it be that I have really beheld my 
 mother — that I have been pressed to her heart — that 
 she has shed tears over me while I lay unconscious in 
 her arms ? — Mother ! what a delightful sound ; and 
 how beautiful she seemed ! yet I have no distinct idea 
 of her, my head was so confused ; but I have a vague 
 recollection of something very fair, and beautiful, and 
 seraph-like, covered with silver drapery and flowers, 
 and with the sweetest voice in the world. Yet that 
 must be too young for my mother — perhaps it was my 
 sister, and my mother was too much overcome to meet 
 her stranger-child. Oh ! how happy must I be with 
 such a mother and sister ! '* 
 
 In these delightful cogitations Mary remained till 
 Lady Emily entered. 
 
 " How well you look this morning, my dear cousin! " 
 said she, flying to her ; " you are much more like my 
 Edward than you were last night. Ah ! and you have ' 
 got his smile too ! You must let me see that very 
 often."
 
 236 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " I am sure I shall have cause," said Mary, return- 
 ing her cousin's afTectionate embrace, " but at present I 
 feel anxious about my mother and sister. The agita- 
 tion of our meeting, and my weakness, I fear, has been 
 too much for them : " and she looked earnestly in 
 Lady Emily's face for a confirmation of her fears. 
 
 " Indeed, you need be under no uneasiness on 
 their account," returned her cousin, with her usual 
 bluntness ; " their feelings are not so easily disturbed : 
 you will see them both at breakfast, so come along." 
 
 The room was empty ; and again Mary's sensitive 
 heart trembled for the welfare of those already so dear 
 to her ; but Lady Emily did not appear to understand 
 the nature of her feelings. 
 
 " Have a little patience, my dear ! " said she, with 
 something of an impatient tone, as she rang for break- 
 fast ; " they will be here at their usual time. Nobody 
 in this house is a slave to hours, or gene with each 
 other's society. Liberty is the motto here : everybody 
 breakfasts when and where they please. Lady Juliana, 
 I believe, frequently takes hers in her dressing-room ; 
 papa never is visible till two or three o'clock ; and 
 Adelaide is always late." 
 
 " What a selfish cold-hearted thing is grandeur ! " 
 thought Mary, as Lady Emily and she sat like two 
 specks in the splendid saloon, surrounded by all that 
 wealth could purchase or luxury invent ; and her 
 thoughts reverted to the pious thanksgiving, and affec- 
 tionate meeting, that graced their social meal in the 
 sweet sunny breakfast-roosi at Lochmarlie. 
 
 Some of those airy nothings, without a local habita- 
 tion, who are always to be found flitting about the 
 mansions of the great, now lounged into the room ; and 
 soon after Adelaide made her entree, Mary, trembling 
 violently, was ready to fall upon her sister's neck ; but 
 Adelaide seemed prepared to repel every thing like a
 
 >> 
 
 MARRIAGE. 237 
 
 scene; for, with a cold but sweet "I hope you are 
 better this morning ? " she seated herself at the opposite 
 side of the table. Mary's blood rushed back to her 
 heart — her eyes filled with tears, she knew not why, 
 for she could not analyse the feelings that swelled in 
 her bosom. She would have shuddered to think her 
 sister unkind, but she felt she was so. 
 
 " It can only be the difference of our manners,' 
 sighed she to herself : " I am sure my sister loves 
 me, though she does not show it in the same way I 
 should have done ; " and she gazed with the purest 
 admiration and tenderness on the matchless beauty of 
 her face and form. Never had she beheld any thing 
 so exquisitely beautiful ; and she longed to throw 
 herself into her sister's arms, and tell her how she 
 loved her. But Adelaide seemed to think the present 
 company wholly unworthy of her regard ; for, after 
 having received the adulation of the gentlemen, as they 
 severally paid her a profusion of compliments upon her 
 appearance, " Desire Tomkins," said she, to a footman, 
 " to ask Lady Juliana for * The Morning Post,' and the 
 
 second volume of * Le ,' of the French novel I am 
 
 reading, and say she shall have it again when I have 
 finished it." 
 
 " In what different terms people may express the 
 same meaning ! " thought Mary : "had I been sending 
 a message to my mother, I should have expressed myself 
 quite differently ; but, no doubt, my sister's meaning is 
 the same, though she may not use the same words." 
 
 The servant returned with the newspaper, and the 
 novel would be sent when it could be found. 
 
 " Lady Juliana never reads like any body else," said 
 her daughter ; " she is for ever mislaying books. She 
 has lost the first volumes of the two last novels that • 
 came from town, before I had even seen them." 
 
 This was uttered in the softest sweetest tone imagin-
 
 238 MARRIAGE. 
 
 able, and as if she had been pronouncing a panegyric. 
 Mary was more and more puzzled. 
 
 " What can be my sister's meaning here ? '* thought 
 she ; " the words seem almost to imply censure, but that 
 voice and smile speak the sweetest praise. How tnily 
 Mrs Douglas warned me never to judge of people by 
 their words ! " 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and three or 
 four dogs rushed in, followed by Lady Juliana, with a 
 volume of a novel in her hand. Again Mary found 
 herself assailed by a variety of powerful emotions — she 
 attempted to rise ; but, pale and agitated, she sank back 
 in her chair. 
 
 Her agitation was unmarked by her mother, who did 
 not even appear to be sensible of her presence ; for with 
 a graceful bend of her head to the company in general, 
 she approached Adelaide, and, putting her lips to her 
 forehead, " How do you do, love ? I am afraid you 
 
 are very angry with me about that teazing Le . I 
 
 can't conceive where it can be ; but here is the third 
 volume, which is much prettier than the second." 
 
 ** I certainly shall not read the third volume before 
 the second," said Adelaide, with her usual serenity. 
 
 " Then I shall order another copy from town, my 
 love ; or, I dare say, I could tell you the story of the 
 second volume : it is not at all interesting, I assure you. 
 
 Hermisilde, you know but I forget where the first 
 
 volume left off." Then directing her eyes to Mary, 
 who had summoned strength to rise, and was slowly 
 venturing to approach her, she extended a finger to- 
 wards her. Mary eagerly seized her mother's hand, and 
 pressed it with fervour to her lips ; then hid her face 
 on her shoulder to conceal the tears that burst from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Absurd, my dear ! " said her ladyship in a peevish 
 tone, as she disengaged herself from her daughter j
 
 MARRIAGE. 239 
 
 ** you must really get the better of this foolish weak- 
 ness ; these scenes are too much for me. I was most 
 excessively shocked last night, I assure you ; and you 
 ought not to have quitted your room to-day." 
 
 Poor Mary's tears congealed in her eyes at this tender 
 salutation, and she raised her head as if to ascertain 
 whether it really proceeded from her mother ; but, in- 
 stead of the angelic vision she had pictured to herself, 
 she beheld a face which, though once handsome, now 
 conveyed no pleasurable feeling to the heart. 
 
 Late hours, bad temper, and rouge, had done much 
 to impair Lady JuHana's beauty. There still remained 
 enough to dazzle a superficial observer, but not to satisfy 
 the eye used to the expression of all the best affections 
 of the soul. Mary almost shrank from the peevish 
 inanity pourtrayed on her mother's visage, as a glance 
 of the mind contrasted it with the mild benevolence of 
 Mrs Douglas's countenance ; and, abashed and disap- 
 pointed, she remained mournfully silent. 
 
 " Where is Dr Redgill ? " demanded Lady Juliana 
 of the company in general. 
 
 " He has got scent of a turtle at Admiral Yellow- 
 chops'," answered Mr P. 
 
 " How provoking," rejoined her ladyship, " that he 
 should be out of the way the only time I have wished 
 to see him since he came to the house ! " 
 
 **Who is this favoured individual, whose absence 
 you are so pathetically lamenting, Julia ? " asked Lord 
 Courtland, as he indolently sauntered into the 
 room. 
 
 "That disagreeable Dr Redgill. He has gone 
 somewhere to eat turtle, at the very time I wished to 
 consult him about " 
 
 " The propriety of introducing a new niece to your * 
 lordship," said Lady Emily, as with affected solemnity 
 she introduced Mary to her uncle. Lady Juliana
 
 240 MARRIAGE. 
 
 frowned — the earl smiled — saluted his niece — hoped 
 she had recovered from the fatigue of the journey — 
 remarked it was very cold, and then turned to a parrot, 
 humming, " Pretty Polly, say," &c. 
 
 Such was Mary's first introduction to her family ; 
 and those only who have felt what it was to have the 
 genial current of their souls chilled by neglect, or 
 changed by unkindness, can sympathise in the feelings 
 of wounded affection — when the overflowings of a 
 generous heart are confined within the narrow limits 
 of its own bosom, and the offerings of love are rudely 
 rejected by the hand most dear to them. 
 
 Mary was too much intimidated by her mother's 
 manner towards her, to give way, in her presence, to 
 the emotions that agitated her ; but she followed her 
 sister's steps as she quitted the room, and, throwing her 
 arms around her, sobbed, in a voice almost choked with 
 the excess of her feelings, " My sister, love me ! — oh ! 
 love me ! " But Adelaide's heart, seared by selfishness 
 and vanity, was incapable of loving anything in which 
 self had no share ; and, for the first time in her life, 
 she felt awkward and embarrassed. Her sister's stream- 
 ing eyes and supplicating voice spoke a language to 
 which she was a stranger ; for art is ever averse to 
 recognise the accents of nature. Still less is it capable 
 of replying to them ; and Adelaide could only wonder 
 at her sister's agitation, and think how unpleasant it 
 was ; and say something about " overcome," and " eau^ 
 de- Cologne,*^ and "composure;" which was all lost 
 upon Mary as she hung upon her neck, every feeHng 
 wrought to its highest tone by the complicated nature 
 of those emotions which swelled her heart. At length, 
 making an effort to regain her composure, " Forgive 
 me, my sister ! " said she. " This is very foolish — to 
 weep when I ought to rejoice — and I do rejoice — and 
 I know I shall be so happy yet ! " But, in spite of
 
 MARRIAGE. 24I 
 
 the faint smile that accompanied her words, tears again 
 burst from her eyes. 
 
 " I am sure I shall have infinite pleasure in your 
 society," replied Adelaide, with her usual sweetness 
 and placidity, as she replaced a ringlet in its proper 
 position ; " but I have unluckily an engagement at this 
 time. You will, however, be at no loss for amusement : 
 you will find musical instruments there,'' pointing to an 
 adjacent apartment ; " and here are new publications, 
 and portefeuilles of drawings you will perhaps like to 
 look over: " and so saying, she disappeared. 
 
 " Musical instruments and new publications ! " re- 
 peated Mary, mechanically, to herself: "what have I 
 to do with them ? — O, for one kind word from my 
 mother's lips! — one kind glance from my sister's eye!" 
 
 And she remained overwhelmed with the weight of 
 those emotions which, instead of pouring into the hearts 
 of others, she was compelled to concentrate in her own. 
 Her mournful reveries were interrupted by her kind 
 friend Lady Emily ; but Mary deemed her sorrow too 
 sacred to be betrayed even to her, and therefore, rally- 
 ing her spirits, she strove to enter into those schemes 
 of amusement suggested by her cousin for passing the 
 day. But she found herself unable for such continued 
 exertion ; and, hearing a large party was expected to 
 dinner, she retired, in spite of Lady Emily's remon- 
 strances, to her own apartment, where she sought a 
 refuge from her thoughts, in writing to her friends at 
 Glenfem. 
 
 Lady Juliana looked in upon her as she passed to 
 dinner. She was in a better humour, for she had 
 received a new dress which was particularly becoming, 
 as both her maid and her glass had attested. 
 
 Again Mary's heart bounded towards the being to ♦ 
 whom she owed her birth ; yet, afraid to give utterance 
 to her feelings, she could only regard her with silent 
 
 I. Q
 
 242 MARRIAGE. 
 
 admiration, till a moment's consideration converted that 
 into a less pleasing feeling, as she observed, for the first 
 time, that her mother wore no mourning. 
 
 Lady Juliana saw her astonishment, and, little guess- 
 ing the cause, was flattered by it. " Your style of dress 
 is very obsolete, my dear," said she, as she contrasted 
 the effect of her own figure and her daughter's in a large 
 mirror ; " and there's no occasion for you to wear black 
 here. I shall desire my woman to order some things 
 for you ; though perhaps there won't be much occasion, 
 as your stay here is to be short ; and, of course, you 
 won't think of going out at all. Apropos,, you will find 
 it dull here by yourself, won't you ? I shall leave you 
 my darling Blanche for a companion," kissing a little 
 French lap-dog, as she laid it in Mary's lap ; " only 
 you must be very careful of her, and coax her, and be 
 very, very good to her ; for I would not have my 
 sweetest Blanche vexed, not for the world ! " And, 
 with another long and tender salute to her dog, and a 
 " Good by, my dear ! " to her daughter, she quitted 
 her to display her charms to a brilliant drawing-room, 
 leaving Mary to solace herself in her solitary chamber 
 with the whines of a discontented lap-dog. 
 
 Cl)apter ic^^bij'^ 
 
 C'est un personage illustre dans son genre, et qui a porte 
 
 le talent de bien nourrir jusques ou il pouvoit aller ; il ne 
 
 semble ne que pour la digestion. — La Bruyere. 
 
 IN every season of life, grief brings its own peculiar 
 antidote along with it. The buoyancy of youth 
 soon repels its deadening weight — the firmness of 
 manhood resists its weakening influence — the torpor of 
 old age is insensible to its most acute pangs.
 
 MARRIAGE. 243 
 
 In spite of the disappointment she had experienced 
 the preceding day, Mary arose the following morning 
 with fresh hopes of happiness springing in her heart. 
 
 " How foolish I was," thought she, " to view so 
 seriously what, after all, must be merely difference of 
 manner ; and how illiberal to expect every one's manners 
 should accord exactly with my ideas ! but, now that I 
 have got over the first impression, I dare say I shall find 
 every body quite amiable and delightful." 
 
 And Mary quickly reasoned herself into the belief, 
 that she only could have been to blame. With reno- 
 vated spirits, she therefore joined her cousin, and accom- 
 panied her to the breakfasting saloon. The visitors had 
 all departed, but Dr Redgill had returned, and seemed 
 to be at the winding-up of a solitary but voluminous 
 meal. He was a very tall corpulent man, with a 
 projecting front, large purple nose, and a profusion of 
 chin. 
 
 " Good morning, ladies ! " mumbled he, with a full 
 mouth, as he made a feint of half-rising from his chair. 
 " Lady Emily, your servant — Miss Douglas, I presume 
 — hem ! allow me to pull the bell for your ladyship," 
 as he sat without stirring hand or foot ; then after it 
 was done — " 'pon my honour, Lady Emily, this is not 
 using me well. Why did you not desire me ? — and 
 you are so nimble — I defy any man to get the start of 
 you." 
 
 ** I know you have been upon hard service, doctor, 
 and therefore I humanely wished to spare you any 
 additional fatigue," replied Lady Emily. 
 
 " Fatigue ! pooh ! I'm sure I mind fatigue as little 
 as any man. Besides, it's really nothing to speak of; I 
 have merely rode from my friend Admiral Yellowchops' 
 this morning." 
 
 " I hope you passed a pleasant day there yesterday ?" 
 
 " So so — very so so," returned the doctor, drily.
 
 244 MARRIAGE. 
 
 ** Only so SO, and a turtle in the case ! " exclaimed 
 Lady Emily. 
 
 " Pooh ! — as to that, the turtle was neither here nor 
 there. I value turtle as little as any man. You may 
 be sure it wasn't for that I went to see my old friend 
 Yellowchops, It happened, indeed, that there ivas a 
 turtle, and a very well-dressed one, too ; but where 
 five-and-thirty people (one half of them ladies, who, of 
 course, are always helped first) sit down to dinner, 
 there's an end of all rational happiness, in my opinion." 
 
 " But at a turtle feast you have surely something 
 much better. You know you may have rational happi- 
 ness any day over a beef-steak." 
 
 ** I beg your pardon — that's not such an easy matter. 
 I can assure you it is a work of no small skill to dress 
 a beef-steak handsomely ; and, moreover, to eat it in 
 perfection, a man must eat it by himself. If once you 
 come to exchange words over it, it is useless. I once 
 saw the finest steak I ever clapt my eyes upon com- 
 pletely ruined by one silly scoundrel asking another if he 
 liked fat. If he liked fat ! — what a question for one 
 rational being to ask another ! The fact is, a beef-steak 
 is like a woman's reputation ; if once it is breathed 
 upon, it's good for nothing ! " 
 
 " One of the stories with which my nurse used to 
 amuse my childhood," said Mary, " was that of having 
 seen an itinerant conjurer dress a beef-steak on his 
 tongue." 
 
 The doctor suspended the morsel he was carrying to 
 his mouth, and for the first time regarded Mary with 
 looks of unfeigned admiration. 
 
 " 'Pon my honour, and that was as clever a trick as 
 ever I heard of! You are a wonderful people, you 
 Scotch — a very wonderful people — but pray, was she 
 at any pains to examine the fellow's tongue ? " 
 
 " I imagine not," said Mary ; " I suppose the love
 
 MARRIAGE. 245 
 
 of science was not strong enough to make her run the 
 risk of burning her fingers." 
 
 " It's a thousand pities,'* said the doctor, as he 
 dropped his chin with an air of disappointment. " I 
 am surprised none of your Scotch savans got hold of 
 the fellow, and squeezed the secret out of him. It 
 might have proved an important discovery — a very im- 
 portant discovery ; — and your Scotch are not apt to let 
 anything escape them — a very searching shrewd people 
 as ever I knew — and that's the only way to arrive at 
 knowledge. A man must be of a stirring mind if he 
 expects to do good." 
 
 " A poor woman below wishes to see you, sir," said 
 a servant. 
 
 " These poor women are perfect pests to society," 
 said the doctor, as his nose assumed a still darker hue ; 
 " there is no resting upon one's seat for them — always 
 something the matter ! They burn, and bruise, and 
 hack themselves and their brats, one would really think, 
 on purpose to give trouble." 
 
 " I have not the least doubt of it," said Lady Emily; 
 " they must find your sympathy so soothing." 
 
 " As to that. Lady Emily, if you knew as much 
 about poor women as I do, you wouldn't think so much 
 of them as you do. Take my word for it — they are, 
 one and all of them, a very greedy ungrateful set, and 
 require to be kept at a distance." 
 
 "And also to be kept waiting. As poor people's 
 time is their only wealth, I observe you generally make 
 them pay a pretty large fee in that way." 
 
 "That is not really what I should have expected 
 from you. Lady Emily. I must take the liberty to 
 say, your ladyship does me the greatest injustice. You 
 must be sensible how ready I am to fly," rising as if he 
 had been glued to his chair, " when there is any real 
 danger. I'm sure it was only last week I got up as
 
 246 MARRIAGE. 
 
 soon as I had swallowed my dinner, to see a man who 
 had fallen down in a fit ; and now I am going to this 
 woman, who, I dare say, has nothing the matter with 
 her, before my breakfast is well down my throat.'* 
 
 " Who is that gentleman ? " asked Mary, as the 
 doctor at length, with much reluctance, shuffled out of 
 the room. 
 
 ** He is a sort of medical aid-de-camp of papa's," 
 answered Lady Emily ; " who, for the sake of good- 
 living, has got himself completely domesticated here. 
 He is vulgar, selfish, and gourmand, as you must already 
 have discovered ; but these are accounted his greatest 
 perfections, as papa, like all indolent people, must be 
 diverted, and that he never is by genteel sensible people. 
 He requires something more piquant, and nothing fatigues 
 him so much as the conversation of a common-place 
 sensible man — one who has the skill to keep his foibles 
 out of sight. Now, what delights him in Dr Redgill, 
 there is no retenu — any child who runs may read his 
 character at a glance." 
 
 " It certainly does not require much penetration," 
 said Mary, "to discover the doctor's master passion: 
 love of ease, and self-indulgence, seem to be the pre- 
 dominant features of his mind ; and he looks as if, 
 when he sat in an arm-chair, with his toes on the 
 fender, and his hands crossed, he would not have an idea 
 beyond * I wonder what we shall have for dinner to-day.' " 
 
 " I'm glad to hear you say so. Miss Douglas," said 
 the doctor, catching the last words as he entered the 
 room, and taking them to be the spontaneous effusions 
 of the speaker's own heart ; " I rejoice to hear you say 
 so. Suppose we send for the bill of fare," — pulling 
 the bell ; and then to the servant who answered the 
 summons, " Desire Grillade to send up his bill — Miss 
 Douglas wishes to see it." 
 
 " Young ladies are much more housewifely in Scot-
 
 MARRIAGE. 247 
 
 land than they are in this country," continued the doctor, 
 seating himself as close as possible to Mary, — "at 
 least they were when I knew Scotland : but that's not 
 yesterday ; and it's much changed since then, I dare say. 
 I studied physic in Edinburgh, and went upon a tower 
 through the Highlands. I was very much pleased with 
 what I saw, I assure you. Fine country in some 
 respects — Nature has been very liberal." 
 
 Mary's heart leapt within her at hearing her dear 
 native land praised even by Dr Redgill, and her con- 
 science smote her for the harsh and hasty censures she 
 had passed upon him. " One who can admire the 
 scenery of the Highlands," thought she, " must have a 
 mind. It has always been observed, that only persons 
 of taste were capable of appreciating the peculiar charms 
 of mountain scenery. A London citizen, or a Lincoln- 
 shire grazier, sees nothing but deformity in the sublime 
 works of nature ; " ergo, reasoned Mary, " Dr Redgill 
 must be of a more elevated way of thinking than I had 
 supposed." The entrance of Lady Juliana prevented 
 her expressing the feelings that were upon her lips ; but 
 she thought what pleasure she should have in resuming 
 the delightful theme with the good doctor at another 
 opportunity. 
 
 Chapter W(:>^\\\^ 
 
 Alasl fond child, 
 
 How are thy thoughts beguil'd 
 
 To hope for honey from a nest of wasps ? 
 
 QUARLES. 
 
 AFTER slightly noticing her daughter, and care- 
 fully adjusting her favourites, Lady Juliana 
 began : — 
 " I am anxious to consult you, Dr Redgill, upon the
 
 248 MARRIAGE. 
 
 State of this young person's health. — You have been 
 excessively ill, my dear, have you not ? (My sweetest 
 Blanche, do be quiet ! ) You had a cough, I think, 
 and every thing that was bad. — And as her friends in 
 Scotland have sent her to me for a short time, entirely 
 on account of her health — (my charming Frisk, your 
 spirits are really too much ! ) — I think it quite proper 
 that she should be confined to her own apartment during 
 the winter, that she may get quite well and strong 
 against spring. As to visiting, or going into company, 
 that, of course, must be quite out of the question. — 
 You can tell Dr Redgill, my dear, all about your 
 complaints yourself." 
 
 Mary tried to articulate, but her feelings rose almost 
 to suffocation, and the words died upon her lips. 
 
 " Your ladyship confounds me," said the doctor, 
 pulling out his spectacles, which, after duly wiping, he 
 adjusted on his nose, and turned their beams full on 
 Mary's face — " I really never should have guessed 
 there was any thing the matter with the young lady. 
 She does look a leetle delicate, to be sure — changing 
 colour, too ; — but hand cool — eye clear — pulse steady, 
 a leetle impetuous, but that's nothing ; and the appetite 
 good. I own I was surprised to see you cut so good a 
 figure at the toast ; after the delicious meals you have 
 been accustomed to in the north, you must find it 
 miserable picking here. An English breakfast," glanc- 
 ing with contempt at the eggs, muffins, toast, preserves, 
 &c. &c. he had collected round him, " is really a most 
 insipid meal : if I did not make a rule of rising early 
 and taking regular exercise, I doubt very much if I 
 should be able to swallow a mouthful — there's nothing 
 to whet the appetite here ; and it's the same every 
 where ; as Yellowchops says, our breakfasts are a 
 disgrace to England. One would think the whole 
 nation was upon a regimen of tea and toast — from the
 
 MARRIAGE. 249 
 
 Land's End to Berwick-on-Tweed, nothing but tea 
 and toast ! Your ladyship must really acknowledge the 
 prodigious advantage the Scotch possess over us in that 
 respect." 
 
 " I thought the breakfasts, like everything else in 
 Scotland, extremely disgusting," replied her ladyship, 
 with indignation. 
 
 " Ha ! well, that really amazes me. The people I 
 give up — they are dirty and greedy ; the country, too, 
 is a perfect mass of rubbish ; and the dinners not fit 
 for dogs — the cookery, I mean ; as to the materials, 
 they are admirable. But the breakfasts ! that's what 
 redeems the land — and every country has its own 
 peculiar excellence. In Argyleshire you have the 
 Lochfine herring — fat, luscious, and delicious, just out 
 of the water, falling to pieces with its own richness — 
 melting away like butter in your mouth. In Aberdeen- 
 shire you have the Finnan haddo', with a flavour all its 
 own, vastly relishing — ^just salt enough to be piquant^ 
 without parching you up with thirst. In Perthshire 
 there is the Tay salmon, kippered, crisp, and juicy — a 
 very magnificent morsel — a leetle heavy, but that's easily 
 counteracted by a tea-spoonful of the Athole whisky. 
 In other places you have the exquisite mutton of the 
 countiy, made into hams of a most delicate flavour ; 
 flour scones, soft and white ; oat-cake, thin and crisp ; 
 
 marmalade and jams of every description ; and 
 
 But I beg pardon ! — your ladyship was upon the subject 
 of this young lady's health. 'Pon my honour ! I can 
 see little the matter — we were just going to look over 
 the bill together when your ladyship entered. I see it 
 begins with that eternal soupe santCy and that paltry 
 potage-au-ri% — this is the second day within a week 
 Monsieur Grillade has thought fit to treat us with ' 
 them ; and it's a fortnight yesterday since I have seen 
 either oyster or turtle soup upon the table. 'Pon my
 
 250 MARRIAGE. 
 
 honour ! such inattention is infamous. I know Lord 
 Courtland detests soupe sante, or, what's the same thing, 
 he's quite indifferent to it — for I take indifference and 
 dislike to be much the same : a man's indifference to 
 his dinner is a serious thing, and so I shall let Monsieur 
 Grillade know." And the doctor's chin rose and fell 
 like the waves of the sea. 
 
 " What is the name of the physician at Bristol, who 
 is so celebrated for consumptive complaints ? " asked 
 Lady Juliana of Adelaide. " I shall send for him ; he 
 is the only person I have any reliance upon. T know 
 he always recommends confinement for consumption." 
 
 Tears dropped from Mary's eyes. Lady Juliana 
 regarded her with surprise and severity. 
 
 ** How very tiresome ! I really can't stand these 
 perpetual scenes. Adelaide, my love, pull the bell for 
 my eau de Cologne. Dr Redgill, place the screen there. 
 This room is insufferably hot. My dogs will literally 
 be roasted alive ! " and her ladyship fretted about in all 
 the perturbation of ill-humour. 
 
 " 'Pon my honour ! I don't think the room hot," 
 said the doctor, who, from a certain want of tact, and 
 opacity of intellect, never comprehended the feelings of 
 others : " I declare I have felt it much hotter when 
 your ladyship has complained of the cold : but there's 
 no accounting for people's feelings. If you would 
 move your seat a leetle this way, I think you would be 
 cooler ; and as to your daughter " 
 
 " I have repeatedly desired, Dr Redgill, that you 
 will not use these familiar appellations when you address 
 me or any of my family ! " interrupted Lady Juliana, 
 with haughty indignation. 
 
 " 1 beg pardon," said the doctor, nowise discomposed 
 at this rebuff. — "Well, with regard to Miss — Miss — 
 this young lady, I assure your ladyship you need be 
 under no apprehensions on her account. She's a Uetle
 
 MARRIAGE. 2$ I 
 
 nervous, that's all ; take her about, by all means — all 
 young ladies love to go about and see sights. Show 
 her the pump-room, and the ball-room, and the shops, 
 and the rope-dancers, and the wild beasts, and there's 
 no fear of her. I never recommend confinement to 
 man, woman, or child. It destroys the appetite — and 
 our appetite is the best part of us. What would we be 
 without appetites ? Miserable beings ! worse than the 
 beasts of the field ! " — And away shuffled the doctor to 
 admonish Monsieur Grillade on the iniquity of neglect- 
 ing this the noblest attribute of man. 
 
 " It appears to me excessively extraordinary," said 
 Lady Juliana, addressing Mary, "that Mrs Douglas 
 should have alarmed me so much about your health, 
 when it seems there's nothing the matter with you. 
 She certainly showed very little regard for my feelings. 
 I can't understand it ; and I must say, if you are not 
 ill, I have been most excessively ill-used by your Scotch 
 friends." And, with an air of great indignation, her 
 ladyship swept out of the room, regardless of the state 
 into which she had thrown her daughter. 
 
 Poor Mary's feelings were now at their climax, and 
 she gave way to all the repressed agony that swelled 
 her heart. Lady Emily, who had been amusing her- 
 self at the other end of the saloon, and had heard 
 nothing of what had passed, flew towards her at sight of 
 her suffering, and eagerly demanded of Adelaide the cause. 
 
 " I really don't know," answered Adelaide, lifting 
 her beautiful eyes from her book with the greatest com- 
 posure ; " Lady Juliana is always cross of a morning." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " exclaimed Mary, trying to regain her 
 composure, " the fault is mine. I — I have offended 
 my mother, I know not how. Tell me ! — O tell me, 
 how I can obtain her forgiveness ? " 
 
 " Obtain her forgiveness I " repeated Lady Emily, 
 indignantly, " for what ? "
 
 252 MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Alas ! I know not, but in some way I have dis- 
 pleased my mother ; her looks — her words — her manner 
 — all tell me how dissatisfied she is with me; while to 
 
 my sister, and even to her very dogs '* Here 
 
 Mary's agitation choked her utterance. 
 
 ** If you expect to be treated like a dog, you will 
 certainly be disappointed," said Lady Emily. " I 
 wonder Mrs Douglas did not warn you of what you 
 had to expect. She must have known something of 
 Lady Juliana's ways, and it would have been as well 
 had you been better prepared to encounter them." 
 
 Mary looked hurt, and, making an effort to conquer 
 her emotion, she said, " Mrs Douglas never spoke of 
 my mother with disrespect, but she did warn me against 
 expecting too much from her affection. She said I had 
 been too long estranged from her, to have retained my 
 place in her heart ; but still " 
 
 " You could not foresee the reception you have met 
 with ? Nor I, neither. Did you, Adelaide ? " 
 
 " Lady Juliana is sometimes so odd," answered her 
 daughter, in her sweetest tone, " that I really am seldom 
 surprised at anything she does ; but all this fracas 
 appears to me perfectly absurd, as nobody minds any- 
 thing she says." 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Mary, " my duty must 
 ever be to reverence my mother — my study should be to 
 please to her, if I only knew how ; and oh ! would she 
 but suffer me to love her ! " 
 
 " My dear cousin," said Lady Emily, ** you speak a 
 very sweet, but an unknown language here : we none 
 of us make the least pretence to love and reverence 
 each other — quite the reverse, as Adelaide knows ; 
 being reasonable people, all we aim at is, to keep from 
 hating and despising one another ; — so give me all the 
 love you have brought with you from your warm-hearted 
 highland, and I will keep it till I find some one more
 
 MARRIAGE. 253 
 
 worthy than myself to bestow it upon. As for reverence, 
 truly I cannot, at this moment, recommend any individual 
 in this family to whom I think it is due. But, my dear 
 cousin, do not weep at my nonsense ; you will under- 
 stand us all by-and-by, and find, perhaps, that we are 
 not so very bad as we appear ; only we don't yet quite 
 understand each other, — is it not so, Adelaide ? " 
 
 But Adelaide regarded her sister for a moment with 
 a look of surprise, then rose and left the room, humming 
 an Italian air. 
 
 Lady Emily remained with her cousin, but she was 
 a bad comforter ; her indignation against the oppressor 
 was always much stronger than her sympathy with the 
 oppressed, and she would have been more in her element 
 scolding the mother than soothing the daughter. 
 
 But Mary had not been taught to trust to mortals 
 weak as herself for support in the hour of trial ; she 
 knew her aid must come from a higher source, and in 
 solitude she sought for consolation. 
 
 ** This must be all for my good," sighed she, " else 
 it would not be. I had drawn too bright a picture of 
 happiness — already it is blotted out with my tears. I 
 must set about replacing it with one of soberer colours." 
 
 Alas ! Maiy knew not how many a fair picture of 
 human felicity had shared the same fate as hers ! 
 
 END OF VCL. I. 
 
 TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
 
 "SlSS;S?S^SS 

 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOI9-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 045833743