indeed came the special pleasure in finding flaws in her--for to
them she was the representative of the noble family on whose skirts
they and their ancestors had been settled for ages, the last marquis
not having visited the place for many years, and the present having
but lately succeeded.

Duncan MacPhail was a favourite with her; for the English woman
will generally prefer the highland to the lowland Scotsman; and
she seldom visited the Seaton without looking in upon him so that
when Malcolm returned from the Alton, or Old Town, where the school
was, it did not in the least surprise him to find her seated with
his grandfather.

Apparently, however, there had been some dissension between them;
for the old man sat in his corner strangely wrathful, his face in
a glow, his head thrown back, his nostrils distended, and his eyelids
working, as if his eyes were "poor dumb mouths," like Caesar's
wounds, trying to speak.

"We are told in the New Testament to forgive our enemies, you know,"
said Mrs Courthope, heedless of his entrance, but in a voice that
seemed rather to plead than oppose.

"Inteet she will not be false to her shief and her clan," retorted
Duncan persistently. "She will not forgife Cawmil of Glenlyon."

"But he's dead long since, and we may at least hope he repented
and was forgiven."

"She'll be hoping nothing of the kind, Mistress Kertope," replied