house as much as if she had been born in it? Mrs. Barrington, perhaps, was not quite unconscious of this plan, though not a word had been said by any of these innocent plotters. For indeed what manner of man young Erskine was, and whether he was worthy of Nora, or in the least likely to please her, were things altogether unknown to the county, where he had not been seen for the last dozen years.

"Me cry! I've never done that since | be more suitable than a match between I came to man's estate," cried Rolls in- John Erskine, the young master of Daldignantly, but after a suspicious pause. rulzian, who knew nothing about his na"As for wishing you back, Miss Nora, tive country, and Nora Barrington, who wishing you were never to go, wishing was its adopted child, and loved the old you would grow to the walk, as the cornel says "This was so much from such a speaker, that he turned, and added in a changed tone, "You'll have grand weather for your journey, cornel. But you must mind the twa ferries, and no be late starting," -a sudden reminder which broke up the little group, and made an end of the scene of leave-taking. It was the farewell volley of friendly animosity with which Rolls put a stop to his own perverse inclination to be soft-hearted over the departure of the English tenants. "He could not let us go without that parting shot," the "cornel said, as he put his wife into the jingling "coach" from the station, which, every better vehicle having been sent off beforehand, was all that remained to carry them away.

The Barringtons during their residence at Dalrulzian had been received into the very heart of the rural society, in which at first there had sprung up a half-grudge against the almost unknown master of the place, whose coming was to deprive them of a family group so pleasant and so bright. The tenants themselves, though their turn was over, felt instinctively as if they were expelled for the benefit of our intruder, and entertained this grudge warmly. "Mr. Erskine might just as well have stayed away," Nora said. "He can't care about it as we do." Her mother laughed and chid, and shared the sentiment. "But then it's his ain place,' as old Rolls says." "And I dare say he thinks there is twice as much shooting," said the colonel complacently: "I did, when we came. He'll be disappointed, you'll see." This gave him a faint sort of satisfaction. In Nora's mind there was a different consolation, which yet was not a consolation, but a mixture of expectancy and curiosity, and that attraction which surrounds an unconscious enemy. She was going to make acquaintance with this supplanter, this innocent foe, who was turning them out of their home because it was his home the most legitimate reason. She was about to pay a series of visits in the country, to the various neighbors, who were all fond of her and reluctant to part with her. Perhaps her mother had some idea of the vague scheme of matchmaking which had sprung up in some minds, a plan to bring the young people together; for what could

Anyhow he was coming as fast as the railway could carry him, while Nora took leave of her parents at the station. The young man then on his way was not even aware of her existence, though she knew all about him- or rather about his antecedents; for about John Erskine himself no one in the neighborhood had much information. He had not set foot in the county since he was a boy of tender years and unformed character, whose life had been swallowed up in that of an alien family, of pursuits and ideas far separated from those of his native place. It almost seemed, indeed, as if it were far from a happy arrangement of Providence which made young John Erskine the master of this small estate in the north; or rather, perhaps, to mount a little higher, we might venture to say that it was a very embarrassing circumstance, and the cause of a great deal of confusion in this life that Henry Erskine, his father, should have died when he did. Whatever might be the consequences of that step to himself, to others it could scarcely be charac terized but as a mistake. That young man had begun to live an honest, wholesome life, as a Scotch country gentleman should; and if he had continued to exist, his wife would have been like other country gentlemen's wives, and his child, brought up at home, would have grown like the heather in adaptation to the soil. But when he was so ill advised as to die, confusion of every kind ensued. The widow was young, and Dalrulzian was solitary. She lived there, devoutly and conscientiously doing her duty, for some years. Then she went abroad, as every body does, for that change of air and scene which is so necessary to our lives. And in Switzerland she met a clergyman, to whom change had also been necessary, and who was 66 'taking the duty" in a mountain caravansary of tourists. What opportunities there are in such a position!

give."

"You'll be for sending him to that idol of the English," said the old lady, "a public school, as they call it. As if all our Scotch schools from time immemorial hadn't been public schools! Well, and after that

"It is only an idea," said little Mrs. Kingsford humbly "not settled, nor anything like settled; but they say if I were to let the house

She was pensive, and he was sympathetic. the best education that England can
He had a sister, whom she invited to
Dalrulzian, "if she did not mind winter.
in the north;" and Miss Kingsford did
not mind winter anywhere, so long as it
was for her brother's advantage. The
end was that Mrs. Erskine became Mrs.
Kingsford, to the great though silent as-
tonishment of little John, now eleven
years old, who could not make it out.
They remained at Dalrulzian for a year or
two, for Mr. Kingsford rather liked the
shooting, and the power of asking a friend
or two to share it. But at the end of that
time he got a living- a good living; for
events, whether good or evil, never come
singly; and, taking John's interests into
full consideration, it was decided that the
best thing to be done was to let the house.
Everybody thought this advisable, even
John's old grand-aunt at Dunearn, of
whom his mother was more afraid than of
all her trustees put together. It was with
fear and trembling that she had ventured
to unfold this hesitating intention to the
old lady. "Mr. Kingsford thinks" - and
then it occurred to the timid little woman
that Mr. Kingsford's opinion as to the
disposal of Henry Erskine's house might
not commend itself to Aunt Barbara.
"Mr. Monypenny says," she added, fal-
tering; then stopped and looked with
alarm in Miss Erskine's face.

"What are you frightened for, my dear? Mr. Kingsford has a right to his opinion, and Mr. Monypenny is a very discreet person, and a capital man of business." They think it would be a good thing for-John; for, Aunt Barbara, he is growing a big boy, we must be thinking of his education

"That's true," said the old lady, with a smile that was the grimmest thing about her. It was very uphill work continuing a labored explanation under the light of this smile.

Aunt Barbara's gray eyes flashed; perhaps they were slightly green, as ill-natured people said. But she fired her guns in the air, so to speak, and once more grimly smiled. "I saw something very like all this in your wedding cards, Mary, she said. "No, no, no apologies. I will not like to see a stranger in my father's house; but that's no-thing, that's no-thing. I will not say but it's very judicious; only you'll mind the boy's an Erskine, and here he'll have to lead his life. Mind and not make too much of an Englishman out of a Scotch lad, for he'll have to live his life here."

"Too much of an Englishman!" Mr.
Kingsford cried, when this conversation
was reported to him. "I am afraid your
old lady is an old fool, Mary. How could
he be too much of an Englishman? Am
I out of place here? Does not the greater
breeding include the less?" he said, with
his grand air. His wife did not always
quite follow his meaning, but she always
believed in it as something that merited
understanding; and she was quite as
deeply convinced as if she had under-
stood. And accordingly the house was
let to Colonel Barrington, who had not a
"place" of his own, though his elder
brother had, and the Kingsfords "went
south" to their rectory, with which John's
mother in particular was mightily pleased.
It was in a far richer country than that
which surrounded Dalrulzian,
a land
flowing with milk and cheese, if not
honey, full of foliage and flowers. Mrs.
Kingsford, having been accustomed only
to Scotland, was very much elated with
the luxuriant beauty of the place. She
spoke of " England" as the travelled
speak of Italy, as if this climate of
ours, which we abuse so much, was para-
dise. She thought "the English So
frank, so open, so demonstrative.
live in "the south" seemed the height
"Yes, Aunt Barbara. But then you of happiness to her. Innocent primitive
know, John they say he will have such Scotch gentlewomen are prone to talk in
a fine position -a long minority and a this way. Mr. Kingsford, who knew bet-
good estate they say he should have | ter, and who himself liked to compare

"And he cannot - be educated here."

"Wherefore no? I cannot see that, my dear. His father was educated in Edinburgh, which is what I suppose you mean by here. Many a fine fellow's been bred up at Edinburgh College, I can tell you; more than you'll find in any other place I ever heard of. Eh! what ails you at Edinburgh? It's well known to be an excellent place for schools schools of all kinds."

T

notes with people who winter in Italy, did | only of special corners in the woods, and what he could to check her exuberance, turns of the stream, where he nibbled as but she was too simple to understand a boy at the big sports, which are the life why.

5

He

Erskine of Dalrulzian would have been | had been early that year, and everything
known for what he was. Whereas in was early. He stayed in town a week or
"the south " nobody knew anything two, saw all that was going on at the the-
about the dimensions of his estate, or theatres, got all the last information that was
limits of his income, and everybody sup- to be had at the club on Parliamentary
posed him a young north-country poten- matters, waited a day more "to see the
tate, with perhaps a castle or two and pictures," and then set off on his home-
unlimited moors," who would be an ward way. He had everything a young
excellent fellow to know as soon as he man of fortune requires, except a servant,
came into his own. This was John's own for his habits were independent. He had
opinion in all these earlier days of youth. been "knocking about," and there was no
He did not know what his income was; room at the rectory for such an appen-
and had he known, the figures would not dage. So he took his own ticket, and
have meant anything particular to him. himself saw his multifarious portman-
A thousand a year seems to imply a great teaus placed in the van which was to go
deal of spending to a youth on an allow-through." There were a great many
ance of three hundred; and he accepted mingled elements in his pleasure, the
everybody's estimate of his importance satisfaction of "coming to his kingdom;
with pleased satisfaction. After all the the pleasure of renewing old associations,
explanations which followed his coming and taking his natural place; the excite-
of age, he had indeed a touch of disen- ment of novelty-for it would all be as
chantment and momentary alarm, feeling new to him, this home which he had not
the details to be less splendid than he had seen for a dozen years, as if he had never
expected. But Mr. Monypenny evidently been there before. From thirteen to
considered them anything but insignifi- five-and-twenty, what a difference!
cant and a man of his experience, the began to look about him with a new sensa-
youth felt, was bound to know. He had tion as the morning rose after that long
gone abroad in the interval between leav-night journey, and he felt himself ap-
ing Oxford and coming "home" to take proaching home.
possession of his kingdom. He was not
dissipated or extravagant, though he had
spent freely. He was a good specimen of
a young man of his time determined
that everything about him should be in
good form," and very willing to do his
duty and be bon prince to his dependants.
And he anticipated with pleasure the life
of a country gentlemen, such as he had
seen it in his mother's neighborhood, and
in several houses of his college friends to
which he had been invited. Sometimes,
indeed, it would occur to him that his
recollections of Dalrulzian were on a less
extensive scale; but a boy's memory is
always flattering to a home which he has
not seen since his earliest years. Thus
it was with a good deal of pleasant excite-
ment that he set out from Milton Magna,
his stepfather's rectory, where he had
gone to see his mother and the children
for a week or two on his return from the
Continent. The season was just begin-
ning, but John, full of virtue and hope,
decided that he would not attempt to in-
dulge in the pleasures of the season. Far
better to begin his real life, to make ac
quaintance with his home and his "peo-
ple," than to snatch a few balls and edge
his way through a few crowded recep-
tions, and feel himself nobody. This was
not a thing which John much liked. He
had been somebody all his life. Easter

LIVING AGE.

VOL. XXXVIII.

1960

CHAPTER II.

OLD Rolls had been butler at Dalrulzian since John Erkskine was a child. He had "stayed on " after Mrs. Erskine's second marriage with reluctance, objecting seriously to a step-master at all, and still more to one that was an “English minister;" but the house had many attractions. for him. He liked the place; his sister was the cook, a very stationary sort of woman, who had the greatest disinclination to move. She was a sort of human cat, large and smooth and good-natured, almost always purring, satisfied with herself and all who were moderately good to her; and, as was natural, she made the butler very comfortable, and was extremely attentive to all his little ways. When Colonel Barrington took the house, Rolls once more expressed his determination to leave. "What for?" said the placid Bauby; "the gentleman was keen to have a' the servants a' the servants that would bide." "A' the servants! there's so many of us," said Rolls derisively. There were indeed only himself, the cook, and one housemaid; the other, who had charge of John in his earlier days, and still was attached to him more or less, had gone with the family and so, of course, had Mrs. Kingsford's maid. "We'll mak' a grand show in the servants'

hall-we're just a garrison," Rolls said. | air, through which every creak of the "We're plenty for a' the work there is jingling harness and every jolt of the the now," said the mild woman, "and wheels sounded so distinctly, and the voice they'll bring some with them. What ails of Jock Beaton apostrophizing his wornye to bide? You're real well aff and out horse, and watched the lingering deme that kens exactly how you like your parture with feelings of a very mingled meat. Where would you be studied as I description. "There's feenis put to that study you? You may just be thankful chapter," he said to himself aloud. it's in your power." "It was with the "We're well rid of them." But he linErskines I took service," said Rolls. gered as long as the yellow panels could "I'm no sure that I could put up with be seen gleaming through the trees at the strangers, and them just travelling En- turn of the road, without any of the jubiglish. Besides, I've never been clear lation in his face which he expressed in that service is my vocation. A kent fam- his words. At that last turn, just when ily is one thing, a foreign master another. the "coach" reached the highroad, someHim and me would very likely no get on thing white was waved from the window, -or them and me would no get on. All which very nearly made an end of Rolls. went very well in the last reign. Hairy He uttered something which at first Erskine was a gentleman, like all his fore- sounded like a sob, but was turned into a bears before him; but how am I to tell laugh, so to speak, before it fell into that who is this cornel, or whatever they ca' telltale air which preserved every gradahim a man I never heard tell of before? tion of sound. "It's that bit thing!" I'll give them over the keys, and maybe Rolls said, more sentimental than perhaps I'll wait till they're suited, but nobody he had ever been in his life. His fine can ask me to do more." feeling was, however, checked abruptly. "Hoot, Tammas!" said his sister: "You're greetin' yourself, Tammas," said which was the highest height of remon- a soft, round voice, interrupted by sobs, strance she ever reached. Notwithstand-over his shoulder. "Me greetin'!" he ing this, however, year after year Rolls turned round upon her with a violence had "stayed on." He was very distinct that, if Bauby had been less substantial in pointing out to "the cornel" the supe- and less calm, would have driven her to riority of his native masters, and the dis- the other end of the house; "I'm just advantage to Scotland of having so many laughin' to see the nonsense you womenof the travelling English taking up the folk indulge in: but it's paardonable in the houses of the gentry; but he was an ex- case of a bit creature like Miss Nora. cellent servant, and his qualities in this And I allow they have a right to feel it. way made up for his defects in the other Where will they find a bonnie place like if, indeed, those defects did not tell in Dalrulzian, and next to nothing in the his favor; for a Scotch servant who is a way of rent or keeping up? But I'm character is, like a ghost, a credit to any thankful mysel to see the nest cleared old and respectable house. The Barring out, and the real man in it. What are tons were proud of old Rolls. They laid you whimpering about? It's little you've temptations in his way and made him talk seen of them, aye in your kitchen." whenever they had visitors; and his crit-seen little of them!" cried Bauby, roused icisms on the English, and the opinions to a kind of soft indignation; "the best which he freely enunciated on all subjects, part of an hour with the mistress every had often kept the party in amusement. day of my life, and as kind a sympathizRolls, however, had not been able to de- ing woman! There'll be nae leddy now fend himself against a certain weakness to order the dinners-and that's a great for the children, specially for Nora, who responsibility, let alone anything else." was very small when the family came to "Go away with your responsibility. I'll Dalrulzian, and whom he had brought up, order your dinners," said Rolls. "Well," as he flattered himself, regretting much said Bauby, not without resignation, "to all the time that she was not an Erskine be a servant, and no born a gentleman, and natural-born daughter of the house. you've aye been awfu' particular about Rolls did not by any means see the de- your meat." And she withdrew consoled, parture of the Barringtons unmoved, not- though drying her eyes, to wonder if Mr. withstanding that he hurried them away. John would be "awfu' particular about He stood for a long time looking after the his meat," or take whatever was offered "coach," which was a sort of rude omni- to him, after the fashion of some young bus, as it jolted down the avenue. men. Meat, it must be explained, to old servant stood in the clear morning Bauby Rolls meant food of all descrip

The

"Me