Merkland: or, Self Sacrifice. Oliphant Margaret

shall have him, with all my heart,” said Lewis, with some offended dignity; “only, I fear John would not take his orders from Mrs. Morison. He is too sensitive.”

      “Set him up!” exclaimed Mrs. Catherine. “Sensitive, truly! Then you must e’en keep him and humor him yourself, Lewis. I am plaguit enough in my own household. There is Euphan Morison waylaying me with herbs. I caught her my ownself, this very morning, wileing the bairn Alison into poisoning herself with a drink made from dockens: the odor of them has not left me yet.”

      “It was only camomile,” whispered Alice.

      “Never you heed what it was,” said Mrs. Catherine. “Unwholesome trash that she calls good for the stomach, as if a bairn like Alison had any call to know whither she had a stomach or no! I have no patience with them. Jacky, you evil spirit, what are ye wanting now?”

      “If you please,” said Jacky, “It’s Mr. Foreman – ”

      Mrs. Catherine started.

      “Where is he?”

      “And a strange man with him, dressed like a gentleman,” continued Jacky. “They’re in the library, Mrs. Catherine.”

      Mrs. Catherine rose hurriedly.

      “Bairns, you will tarry till I come back. I am not like to be long.”

      Mr. Foreman, the acute, and sagacious writer of Portoran, was seated in the library when Mrs. Catherine entered, and a man of equivocal appearance, bearded like the pard, who had been swaggering round the room, examining, with an eye of assumed connoisseurship, the dark family portraits on the wall, turned round at the sound of her step to make an elaborate bow. Mrs. Catherine looked at him impatiently.

      “Well, Mr. Foreman, have you brought me any tidings?”

      “I have brought you no direct tidings, Mrs. Catherine, but this,” – Mr. Foreman looked dubiously at the stranger – ”this gentleman, whom I met accidentally in Portoran, is charged with a mission, the particulars of which I thought you would like to know, being deeply interested in Mr. Sutherland.”

      “Maiden aunt,” murmured the stranger. “Ah! I see.”

      “You seem to have clear eyes, Sir,” said Mrs. Catherine, sternly. “Mr. Sutherland will be a friend of yours, doubtless?”

      “Ah! a fine young fellow – most promising lad!” was the answer. “Might be a credit to any family. I have the honor of a slight acquaintance. Nothing could be more edifying than his walk and conversation, I assure you, Madam.”

      “I will thank you to assure me of what I ask, and trouble your head about no more,” said Mrs. Catherine. “Are the like of you acquaint – I am meaning, is Archibald Sutherland a friend of yours?”

      “Very intimate. My friend Lord Gillravidge and he are. Astonishing young man, Madam, my friend Lord Gillravidge – missed church once last year, and was quite overcome with contrition – so much comforted by Mr. Sutherland’s Christian friendship and fraternity – quite delighted to be a spectator of it, I assure you.”

      “I was asking you about Archibald Sutherland, Sir,” said Mrs. Catherine, standing stiffly erect, as the stranger threw himself into a chair unbidden, “and in what manner the like of you were connected with him. I am waiting for your answer.”

      “A long story, Madame,” said the stranger, coolly, “of friendly interest and mutual good offices. I have seen Mr. Sutherland often with my friend Lord G., and was anxious to do him a service – my time being always at my friend’s disposal.”

      “Mr. Foreman,” exclaimed Mrs. Catherine, “know you the meaning of all this? You are a lawyer, man; see if you cannot shape questions so as they shall be answered.”

      “Your friend Lord Gillravidge is intimately acquainted with Mr. Sutherland?” interrogated Mr. Foreman.

      “Precisely – delightful; dwelling together in unity, like – ”

      “And Mr. Sutherland is in embarrassed circumstances?” continued Mr. Foreman, impelled by an impatient gesture from Mrs. Catherine.

      The stranger turned round with a contraction of his forehead and gave a significant nod.

      “A most benevolent young man – kind-hearted people are always being tricked by impostors, and made security for friends – merely temporary – does him infinite credit, I assure you, Madam.”

      “Assure me no lies!” exclaimed Mrs. Catherine. “What have you to do – a paltry trickster as you are – with the lad Archie Sutherland: answer me that?”

      “Madam!” exclaimed the stranger, rising indignantly, and assuming an attitude.

      “The lady is aware of Mr. Sutherland’s embarrassments,” interposed Mr. Foreman, “and is putting no inquiries touching the cause. Your friend, Lord Gillravidge, Mr. – ”

      “Fitzherbert, Sir,” said the stranger.

      “Mr. Fitzherbert has served Mr. Sutherland in a pecuniary way?”

      Mr. Fitzherbert bowed.

      “And you are charged with a mission of a peculiar kind to Strathoran. Might I beg you to explain its nature to Mrs. Catherine Douglas, a lady who is deeply interested in your friend’s friend, Mr. Sutherland.”

      The stranger looked perplexed, gracefully confused, and hung back, as if in embarrassment and diffidence.

      “The fact is, Madam, I am placed in quite a peculiar position – a mission strictly confidential, intrusted to me – friendly inquiries – which I have no authority to divulge. I beg I may not be questioned further.”

      “Mr. Fitzherbert, fortunately, was less delicate with me, Mrs. Catherine,” said Mr. Foreman. “Mr. Sutherland, Madam, is in treaty for the sale of Strathoran – for some portion of the estate, at least, and this gentleman is commissioned to report upon it, as he tells me, before the bargain is completed.”

      “Not fair – against all principles of honor,” exclaimed Mr. Fitzherbert. “A mis-statement, Madam, I assure you; merely some shooting-grounds. Mr. Sutherland is no sportsman himself, and my friend, Lord Gillravidge, is a keen one. Amicable exchange – nothing more.”

      Mrs. Catherine stood firmly erect; gazing into the blank air. The shock was great to her; for some moments she neither moved nor spoke.

      “I appeal to yourself, Madam,” resumed the stranger. “I investigate farms and fields. I, fresh from the most refined circles: do I look like a person to report upon clods and cattle?”

      The voice startled Mrs. Catherine from her fixed gravity.

      “I will come to you by-and-by, Mr. Foreman,” she said. “Gather the story as clear as may be – at present, I cannot be troubled with strangers.”

      A slight, emphatic motion of her hand conveyed her desire that the friend and emissary of Lord Gillravidge should be dismissed as speedily as possible, and turning, she left the room.

      “Spoilt it all,” exclaimed Fitzherbert, as the door closed, “never have any commerce with lawyers – bad set – Scotch especially – keen – ill-natured. What harm would it have done you, old gentleman, if I had pleased the old lady about her nephew, and got her, perhaps, to come down with something handsome? I always like to serve friends myself – wanted to put in a good word for Sutherland – but it’s all spoiled now.”

      “You expect to see more of Strathoran, I suppose,” said Mr. Foreman; “good sport on the moor, they tell me, Mr. Fitzherbert, and you say Lord Gillravidge is a keen sportsman.”

      “Keen in most things,” said the stranger, with an emphatic nod. “Sharp – not to be taken in – simple Scotch lad no match for Gillravidge – serves him right, for thinking he was. But I say, old gentleman, don’t be ill-natured and tell the aunt – let him have a fresh start.”

      “It is to be a sale, then?” said the lawyer, “is your friend really to buy Strathoran?”

      The stranger laughed