CHAPTER X
The painters have come and gone, and on the dining-room walls and woodwork they have left evidence of tasty, careful workmanship. John Boyes, to whom the question of wall-paper was referred, was of the opinion that the decorative scheme adopted by Mrs Black for her parlour was not exactly applicable or advisable in our case; so Betty at once deferred to his better judgment, but warned us, all the same, that if the work didn't turn out a success we were not to blame her. There was, however, no occasion for what she calls 'castin' up,' as the room looks exceedingly well, and we—that is, Betty and I—have complimented John Boyes, who likewise looks exceedingly well, not so much perhaps by reason of our commendation, but because his account was asked for and paid the day after the work was completed. I understand the general rule in the locality is to pay tradesmen's accounts once a year, and when I offered such prompt payment John was both surprised and perplexed.
'I thocht, Mr Russell,' he said, 'that you were satisfied wi' the job;' and he placed his hat on Betty's kitchen dresser, fastened a button in his coat, and stood on the defensive.
'And I am pleased with the job, Boyes,' I replied. 'You and your men have worked well, and—and whistled well,' I added, with a laugh; 'and in attending to this work just now you have suited my convenience.'
'Well—but—does it no' look as if ye werena pleased when ye're payin' me so soon?'
'No, no, Boyes, you mustn't think that. I happen just now to have the money beside me, and now that the work is completed it is yours, not mine.'
'Oh, that puts a different complexion on the face o't, as the monkey said when he pented the cat green;' and he gave a cough of relief, and surreptitiously bit off a chew of brown twist. 'It's no' often that money's put doon on my pastin'-table, as it were, an' it's braw an' welcome, I assure you. I'll no' forget ye wi' leebral discoont, let me tell ye.' When he came back to receipt the account he borrowed a penny stamp from Betty, and with great deliberation and no little ceremony drew his pen several times through the pence column, completely obliterating the 8-1/2d. 'Ye see, sir, when a gentleman treats me weel, I'm no' feart. We'll let the eichtpence ha'penny go to the deevil, an' that'll be five pounds six shillin's—nate, as it were.' He stowed the notes away down in his trousers-pocket, unbuttoned and rebuttoned his coat, and jocosely informed me that the price of liquid drier was on the rise, and he would now lay in a stock before the market was too high. An hour afterwards I saw him emerge from the side-door of the inn, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and the term 'liquid drier' was to me stripped of any technical vagueness it had previously possessed.
I have rearranged all the old dining-room pictures so that, without discarding any of them, I shall have sufficient space for the painting of Nith Bridge which the Laurieston minister looked upon as a valuable asset to his bazaar. One day, when I was confined to bed upstairs, I pencilled a note to my confidential clerk in Edinburgh, asking him to find out in which of the five Lauriestons, noted in the Post-Office Directory, a bazaar was to be held, and to make sure of purchasing thereat a certain oil-painting of which I gave full particulars. Ormskirk is a cute, long-headed chap; and, knowing the man well, I was really not surprised when, yesterday morning, I received a letter from him advising me that, without any difficulty, he had 'struck' the right Laurieston, and that through our corresponding agent in Falkirk the picture in question had been secured. Following out my instructions, he is getting it suitably framed; so I trust shortly to see the space filled which I am reserving for it.
Poor Betty has put herself to no end of trouble over the modernising of this room. She has planned and worked unceasingly; and as she couldn't be in two places or do two things at once, Nathan and I these last few days have been in a manner neglected. I was sorry to know of her toiling on late and early, and I told her to get a woman in to help her; but all she said, and that with a sniff, too, was, 'It may happen;' and for the first time I saw Betty's nose in the air. And now that everything is done that she recommended, she is regretting all the expense I have been put to, and bewailing the fact that 'efter a' it was hardly worth while.' 'It's a braw, braw room, Maister Weelum,' she said, as she surveyed it for the twentieth time from the doorway—'a braw room indeed, and I trust ye'll lang be spared to enjoy it. Ay, I do that;' and she sighed.
I looked keenly and quickly at her.
'No, no, Maister Weelum, I dinna mean that. I'm no' a dabbler amang leaf-mould;' and she laughed cheerily. 'A' the same, an' jokin' apairt, I trust ye'll live to get the guid o' a' your ootlay. At ony rate, ye'll be gey bien here ower the winter. An' when ye're weel again, an' away back to yer wark in Embro', ye'll no' forget that ye have sic a place here. Somewey, I think ye'll get marrit sune—hoo I think sae I canna tell, but the look's comin' to your e'e—an' whaever the lucky leddy may be, ye needna be feart to bring her here, for it's a room fit for a duchess.'
The early fall of snow, which I shall ever associate with the doctor's love-story, was, after all, very slight, and except in the uplands, where it lies in the crevices gleaming white in the wintry sun, it has almost entirely disappeared. I have been allowed outside again, and, but for a little stiffness, due, the doctor says, to inaction, I am feeling wonderfully strong and even vigorous.
John Kellock the butcher is the nominal owner of an old bobtailed collie which rejoices in the name of Bang. Bang carries with him into old age many mementos of his pugilistic days, not the least obvious of which are a tattered and limp ear and a short, deformed foreleg. He is long past active service, and only barks now from the shop-door when sheep pass along the village street; but he dearly loves a quiet saunter down the pavement and along the country road with any one who has a mind to chum with him and can keep step with his. John Sterling the shoemaker is also the nominal owner of a dog, a Dandie Dinmont named Jip, which was long a doughty antagonist of Bang, but he is now on the pension list too, and glad of congenial company of limited locomotive capabilities. So the three of us—all more or less 'crocks,' and mutually sympathetic—take a constitutional together almost every day. I have mentioned Jip last, but really it was he who made friends with me first. His master made no demur to Jip's frequent strolls with me, as the shoemaker himself leads a sedentary life, and no man knows better than he that a dog should get exercise; but since Jip has on more than one occasion taken French leave and remained overnight with me, I am afraid jealousy is springing up in the shoemaker's breast. Bang noted the ripening acquaintanceship, and girned disapproval as we passed the butcher's shop; but I never neglected an opportunity of scratching his shaggy underjaw and talking coaxingly in a 'doggie' way to him, and so it came to pass that after following us bit by bit, day by day, he agreed with Jip to bury the hatchet, and we are now a happy trio and the very best of friends.
As companions in a country walk I prefer Bang and Jip to any man I know. I can be silent and meditative, and they don't feel neglected or out of it; and when I am minded to talk, they, in the wag of the tail and the intelligent look of the eye, respond and approve. But they never trespass upon my attention or disturb my vein of thought.
At first, after our walk, when I reached Betty's door, I asked them to come inside, but they stood with a dubious look in their eyes and with heads turned sideways. Then Jip evidently remembered that John Sterling had paid his license, and that he was in duty bound to make some show of recognition, so he walked sedately and with fixed purpose across the street; while Bang, with recurrent memories of truant acts associated with ash-plants, limped his way to Kellock's door. Now, however, they have both flung discretion and fears to the winds, and accompany me to my fireside with an 'at home' sort of air, and just as if Betty's abode were their own.
Betty has a cat, a very nice, comfortable-looking cat, with a glossy, well-cared-for fur, and a strong masculine face; and she often wonders why I take no notice of Jessie, as she, in her simplicity, misnames him. The truth is, God's creatures, great and small, interest and appeal to me, but I cannot love cats. I admire their graceful movements, their agility, their cleanliness so far as their fur is concerned; but their eyes cannot draw me lovingly to them as a dog's can, and I have the feeling that they are capable of loving only those who minister to their wants, and that they are putting up with domesticity because it assures them of food and shelter without putting them to the trouble and inconvenience of seeking it for themselves. I am sorry I cannot love Jessie, but it can't be helped. Jessie, I know, never loved me; and since Bang and Jip have got entry to the house I know 'she' positively hates me.
This afternoon Bang and Jip accompanied me as usual in my stroll, and after I had leisurely surveyed all the countryside around, and the two dogs had to their hearts' content explored every rat-run in the roots of the bordering hedgerows, we turned for home. For a little while I halted at Hastie's gate, and watched with interest the northward rush of the afternoon express. I remembered how, when a boy, I used to stand at this coign of vantage, with my eyes riveted on the speeding trains, following them in imagination and desire through distant fields and woods, past towns I knew of only through my geography, on and away to the busy, bustling terminus on the Clyde, with its big houses, its long streets, and attractive shops. How I envied the driver on the footplate, and how I longed to be a passenger with him en route to the city which was then to me unknown and unexplored! Experientia docet; the express in its flight was as interesting to me as it was then, but the desire and longing to be in it were lacking. 'No, no,' I said to myself; 'no bustling city for me at present. Here around me is life without veneer; here is the peace I crave; here, I feel, is the goal.' The sound of approaching footsteps cut short my reverie. I turned my head, and for the second time I looked into the eyes of my dream-lady.
Had I had time to gather my wits and consider the situation, I should probably have recognised her presence by merely raising my hat, but this was denied me; and, acting on a sudden impulse, I went forward to meet her with my hand outstretched. With a look of surprise and, I imagined, annoyance, she stopped and regarded me earnestly for a moment. In a flash it came to me that we had never been introduced, and I blushed awkwardly and retreated a step, muttering an incoherent apology. Then ensued a long pause, an awkward silence. It was Bang who came to the rescue, and saved the situation. Wagging his scraggy apology for a tail, he sidled up to her, and in an ingratiating, wheedling way which only a dog possesses, he claimed her attention. She spoke to him, and stroked his shaggy head. Then Jip ventured forward, demanding his share of her favours, and she bent down and asked him his name. I remained tongue-tied and ill at ease, and was wishing myself a hundred miles away, when she suddenly looked toward me and smiled.
'I consider a collie and a Dandie Dinmont ideal companions,' she said. 'They are evidently very much attached to you, and old friends are the best friends.'
'Friends, yes; but they don't belong to me,' I replied. 'Bang here is an old pensioner of the village butcher, and wee Jip is the apple of our local shoemaker's eye. We've been good chums since I came down here, and I seldom go for a walk without them.'
'They weren't with you that day in Nithbank Wood?'
'No.'
'By the way,' she hastily interposed, as if glad of an opening, 'I am pleased to have met you again, and to see you are none the worse of your indiscretion in venturing so far when you weren't feeling fit. You have only one walking-stick now, instead of two; so I argue you are making good progress. Do you know,' she continued, and she gave me a look which set my heart thumping, 'I have, time and again, reproached myself for leaving you as I did. You acknowledged you had attempted too much, and you looked so helpless, so—so'–and she hesitated. 'What is that very expressive Scots word, now? So'–
'Forfaughten,' I hazarded.
'That's it—forfaughten; and you must have felt forfaughten, otherwise the word wouldn't have appealed to you as suitable.'
'Well, I admit now, I was, but at the time I didn't wish you, a lady and a stranger, to know it. Besides, you had already done a good deal for me, which, allow me to repeat, I shall not readily forget.'
I was gradually regaining the confidence I had lost, and felt inclined to say more, and to tell her of my dream and what her presence meant to me; but I restrained myself; and, pointing to the paint-box she carried, I changed the subject by asking her if she was finding much inspiration in our beautiful surroundings.
'Yes—oh yes!' she replied; 'it is a beautiful countryside, and the longer I live in it the more I see in it to admire. A wooded locality, such as this, looks at its best—at least from an artist's standpoint—in the late autumn, when sufficient foliage is shed to allow the gray-purple of the branches to mingle with the yellow and russet of the leaves. I am fortunate in being here at this particular time, and I have made quite a number of sketches, which I may work up later. But I am not really an artist. I am only a humble amateur, though I may to an extent have the eye of an artist—to appreciate all the beautiful sights, you know, and that, after all, is something. But I must be going. Good-afternoon; and I'm glad that you are getting on so nicely.—Good-bye, Bang.—Good-bye, Jip;' and she gave them a parting pat, and with a smile on her face which I long remembered, she walked slowly away.
It is a very slender hair to make a tether with, but somehow the fact of her remembering the dogs by name is a consoling thought, and a source of peculiar satisfaction to me.
CHAPTER XI
When I got home, and was comfortably seated in my arm-chair by the fire, Betty came in to set my tea, and I wasn't long in noticing that, from her abstracted air and the listless way she was moving about, she had something on her mind. She looked for a moment or two at Bang and Jip lying comfortably curled up on the hearthrug. 'Thae dugs are braw an' snug lyin' there,' she said; 'an' my puir Jessie's sittin' in the cauld stick-hoose in the huff. No' that I grudge them their warm bed, for I'm gled—he'rt gled—to see them peaceable at last wi' yin anither. It's nae time since they were girnin' an' fechtin' an' tumblin' ower each ither frae the Cross to the Gill, an' noo, haith, they canna get ower cheek-for-chowie. Ye maun ha'e a wonderfu' wey wi' dugs, Maister Weelum. It's a peety ye couldna exert it in ither weys.'
I know Betty too well to venture assistance, and I had the feeling that she would soon work her way round to her subject without my aiding and abetting.
'The kettle will soon be through the boil, an' ye'll get your tea in a jiffy,' she said. 'Imphm! it's a gey comfortable-lookin' chair, that yin opposite ye, Maister Weelum; an', d'ye ken, I met a leddy the day that I wad like to see sittin' in it.'
'Indeed, Betty!'
'Ay. I dinna ken when I was sae much impressed wi' onybody at first sicht as I was this day; an' when I was sittin' lookin' at her, an' listenin' to her voice, something whispered in my ear, "That's the wife for my boy."'
'My goodness, Betty, you're forcing the pace!' I laughingly said. 'First you wish to see this lady sitting in my chair, and in your next breath you say you wish to see her my wife! Where did you meet this paragon?'
'Weel, this efternoon, when you an' the dugs were away yer walk, I slippit in next door juist for a meenit to see hoo they were a' gettin' on, an', as I usually do, I opened the door withoot knockin' an' walked strecht ben to the kitchen, an' there, Maister Weelum, sittin' on the wee laich nursin'-chair at the fireside, was the leddy I speak o'. I gaed to gang back into the lobby; but Mrs Jardine wadna hear o't, an' she made me step in, an' she introduced me, quite the thing, mind you. Ye see, Tom's wife was toon bred, an' she kens a' the weys o't, an' she mentioned me by name an' the leddy by name; an' if she had been staunin' in a drawin'-room on a Turkey carpet, an' cled in brocade, she couldna ha'e dune it better. I juist didna catch the leddy's name, for, what wi' the suddenness, her bonny face, an' ae thing an' anither, I was sairly flabbergasted an' putten aboot. It seems, hooever, that she's in the picter-pentin' line, an' she's ta'en a great fancy to wee Isobel, an' she's makin' a portrait o' her. A week or twae bygane she saw the wee lass staunin' at the door as she was passin', an' she was so struck wi' her bonny wee face an' her lang fair hair that she spoke to her an' asked to see her mither. Weel, the upshot o' this was that, as I've said, she is pentin' her, an' a capital picter she's makin'. It's hardly finished yet. I ken fules an' bairns should never see hauf-dune wark, an' I'm no' a judge, into the bargain; but I'll say this, photographin' micht be quicker an' mair o' a deid likeness, but it's no' in it wi' yon for naturalness and bonny life-like colour. But that's by the wey, as it were. Her work is guid, withoot a doot, but she hersel's a perfect picter.'
I felt my heart beginning to thump and throb, and my breath getting catchy. 'Pity you missed her name, Betty,' I said with forced unconcern.
'Ay, as I telt ye, I was putten aboot, an' missed it; but I'll speir at Mrs Jardine again, 'at will I.'
'And—and what is the lady like?' I asked, with as much indifference as I could command.
'Weel, Maister Weelum, I juist canna exactly tell ye. She's yin o' the few folks ye meet in a lifetime that ye canna judge o' or scrutinise bit by bit. It's impossible to do that wi' her; you've to tak' her in a' at aince, as it were; ye ken what I mean—eh?'
I did, and I didn't; but I nodded as if I understood.
'What struck me mair than ocht else,' she continued, 'was her couthie, affable mainner. To look at her ye wad think that she's a' drawn thegether—prood-like, ye ken, wi' an almichty set apairt kind o' an air; but whenever she speaks an' looks at ye, ye've the feelin' that she's a' roon aboot ye, an' that there's only her an' you in the whole world. An' she was so composed an' calm, so weel-bred withoot bein' uppish! Oh, I tell ye she juist talked away to Mrs Jardine an' me as if we were o' her ain kind. An' when she rose up to gang away, an' was staunin' her full heicht lookin' doon on us, do you know, Maister Weelum, she seemed to me to be kind o' glorified, an' the kitchen an' a' its plenishin's faded frae my sicht, an' a' I was conscious o' was the kindly glent o' twae big dark een an' the feelin' that I was in the presence o' some yin by-ordinar'—imphm! An' efter she had gane I couldna carry on a wiselike conversation wi' Mrs Jardine for listenin' to the whispered words in my ear, "That's the yin! That's the wife for Maister Weelum."'
Since the forenights began to lengthen the doctor has got into the way of dropping in and smoking a quiet, meditative pipe with me over the chess-board. When he called to-night I drew out the little table with the squared top, and we settled down to our game. But my mind was not concerned with bishops, pawns, and knights, and my thoughts kept careering between Hastie's gate and Mrs Jardine's kitchen. I made an effort to centre my interest, and to look the part of the keen, zealous player; but, unfortunately, I cannot dissemble. I lost two pawns very stupidly, and the doctor looked keenly at me, but said nothing. I blundered on, and at last I made a move which caused the doctor to smile. He got up, relit his pipe, and sank into an easy-chair. 'Ah, William,' he said, 'Love is a tyrant! Heart claimed, thoughts claimed, all dancing attendance on the enslaver.'
I blushed, and made a show of riping my pipe into the coal-scuttle to hide my confusion. Then I told him of the meeting on the Carronbrig road, and of Betty's experience in Mrs Jardine's kitchen.
'The plot thickens, William,' he said as he rose to go; 'and if I were you I would tell her of your dream next time you meet her. It will interest her in you; and, you know, once interest is aroused—well, love will follow. Good-night.'
My picture has arrived, and I have got it hung in a favourable light, in a place of honour above the mantelpiece. I became quite excited when it was delivered, and, like a child with a new toy, was impatient to see it, and to gloat over it. But the lid of the wooden case was tightly screwed down; and, as a hammer and a saw were the only joinery tools which Betty possessed, I had to call in Deacon Webster's aid, and Betty, poor body, got no peace till he arrived with his screwdriver. When at length the picture was taken out of its packing I noticed there was no signature in the corner, and this at the time was a keen disappointment to me; but it has ceased to trouble me now, because I have the feeling that it will shortly bear the artist's name, and till that time comes, when I am not admiring her handiwork, I shall just entertain myself filling the corner space with names which appeal to my mind as fitting and appropriate.
When I asked Nathan's opinion of my purchase, he looked several times very deliberately from me to the picture; then, after a pause, informed me he had 'never till noo seen purple gress.' I explained to him that this was the purple sunset glow; but he shook his head sceptically, spat in my fire, and walked slowly ben into the kitchen. Betty, who spent her early girlhood in the Keir, is delighted that a picture in which her native parish hills are depicted should be hanging on her walls, and she was very anxious to know who the painter was, and how it came into my possession. I just said I was very much interested in the artist, and that the picture had been sent from Edinburgh. She pointed out to me, what I hadn't noticed before, that the bright richness of the gold frame made the others shabby and tarnished-looking, and she warmly advocated the application of a liquid gold paint which John Boyes retails at sixpence a bottle, and which, she assures me, 'is liker pure gold than a sovereign.' Betty dearly loves to dabble in paint. It was Nathan who acquainted me with this predilection, and he instanced a case of her blue-enamelling the long hazel crook, the representative staff of the Ancient Order of Shepherds, which on gala-days he carries in the procession; and another, when she varnished, with a strange concoction, a workbox which she has never been able to open since. Knowing this, I purposely belittled Boyes's liquid, and assured her that in a week or two our eyes would become so accustomed to the conditions that we shouldn't distinguish any difference between the frames. It grieves me very much to thwart Betty; though, truth to tell, I seldom have occasion to do so, as our opinions on the big things of life, the essentials, are rarely in conflict, and the smaller we think not worth wrangling over; so I talked her into a gracious, amenable humour, and ultimately took leave of the subject in what I considered mutual agreement.
This morning, however, when she brought up my ante-breakfast cup of tea, she reverted to the subject without any preliminaries. 'Man, Maister Weelum,' she began, 'I've juist been takin' anither look roon' the dinin'-room. Noo, since we've got it done up it's the first thing I do in the mornin' an' the last at nicht; an', do ye know, I feel quite prood an' important when I'm puttin' a nice white cover on the big table, an' the silver candelabra in the centre o't. But, oh man, since yesterday I'm positively he'rt-sorry for thae auld frames. In a mainner it's my pleesure spoiled; to me it's a case o' deid flies in the ointment, ye understaun? Imphm! an' I'm gettin' fair angry at the new yin hangin' oot so prominently an' skinklin' as if to chaw the ithers. Dod, I imagine it's laughin' an' jeerin' at them. Noo, Maister Weelum, twae sixpenny bottles o' John Boyes's gold spread oot thin would amaist do the whole lot, an'—an' I'll put it on mysel'. I'm rale knacky wi' a brush. It'll no' come to much—imphm! the cost'll be very little. What think ye?'
'I don't know, Betty, I'm sure. I'm sorry to know the old frames annoy your eye. Personally I like the old ones better than the new one; but I'll tell you what, Betty,' I said gleefully, as a happy thought struck me; 'we'll get the new frame coated over with some sort of stuff to dull it down a bit. They'll be all alike then. How would that do?'
'It'll no' do at a', Maister Weelum,' she said emphatically. 'That picter maunna be touched. No! no! It has some history, or I'm cheated. Time will prove'–
A sudden loud knocking echoed through the house and cut short her sentence. 'Mercy me, what a bang!' she said. 'That's Milligan the postman, an' as sure as my name's Betty Grier he'll bash through that door some day;' and, to my relief—for she was stumbling into 'kittle' ground—she hurried downstairs.
Since I came here my correspondence has become almost a negligible quantity. I rarely write to any one, and the few letters I receive are of a more or less private business character. I had two this morning—one from the treasurer of my club reminding me my subscription is due at the end of this month, and the other from my partner, Murray Monteith, who, after alluding to minor matters, writes as follows:
'Now for the real reason of my troubling you at this time. The Hon. Mrs Stuart wrote to me yesterday from Nithbank House, near Thornhill, saying she was desirous of consulting me on a very important subject; but owing to indisposition she couldn't travel to Edinburgh, and she would be much obliged if I could make it convenient to call on her at that address any day next week. I wrote to her by return saying I would travel south on Wednesday first, and would be with her during the early afternoon of that day. As you know, I am a stranger to your native county; but I presume Nithbank House is within driving distance of Thornhill, and as I am due at the station of that name at 11.30 A.M., I shall thus have ample time to call on you prior to my visit, and talk over matters with you.
'The important subject she refers to is, without doubt, in connection with the affairs of her brother-in-law, the late General Stuart, which, I regret to say, are still in a most unsatisfactory state, owing to our inability to unearth a will or to procure any information regarding his marriage. We have made exhaustive inquiry in every conceivable direction, but without result; and his daughter, Miss Stuart, must now be acquainted with the facts as they at present stand. She called here on the 17th ult., and asked to see you. Ormskirk informed her that you were at present invalided in the country, and showed her into my room. We talked over matters in a general way, and I think I managed to satisfy her on the main points, without giving her any reason to suspect we were faced with such serious difficulties. But, as I have said, she must be told now, and I approach this part of the business with misgivings, as it is a very delicate matter indeed; and, from the little I have seen of her, I argue she will take it very keenly to heart. For us to inform her, in our cold, unfeeling legal phraseology, that she is, in the eyes of the law, illegitimate would be nothing short of brutal, and I trust we may prevail on her aunt to discharge this unenviable obligation. I assure you I have no desire to trouble you unnecessarily at this time with business concerns; but, as you are in the immediate locality, and are not only acquainted with the parties, but conversant with all the details of this case, I hope you will see your way to accompany me to Nithbank. Miss Stuart informed me that she had transacted business by correspondence only, and that she had not yet met you. Would this not be a good opportunity for us all to meet and decide what ought to be done?'
Needless to say, I shall be delighted to receive Murray Monteith here. We must arrange to have him remain overnight with us, and I shall take peculiar pleasure in introducing him to Betty and Nathan and Dr Grierson, types, I feel sure, which he has never met before, but which I am equally sure he will appreciate. I shall certainly accompany him to Nithbank House; and I must be prepared to have the vials of the Hon. Mrs Stuart's wrath poured out upon me when she learns that for almost six months I have resided within two miles of her, and have not considered it my duty and privilege to call on her. I am very, very sorry to learn from Monteith that things have turned out so unfortunately; but somehow I have dreaded such an outcome all along. And my heart goes out to that poor girl who is likely to lose her patrimony under the inexorable law of succession. But, wait now, let me think. Yes, these four thousand Banku oil shares which her father transferred to her, on her coming of age, are hers, and cannot be contested; so that, after all, if our worst fears regarding the property are realised, she will not be penniless. I wonder if she is a level-headed business girl, and if she knows to what extent she will benefit from this. Banku oils are worth looking after. This will be one cheering subject, at least, which we may broach to her. But, after all, the stigma of illegitimacy remains, and money cannot make up for that. Poor girl!