all those that had gone singing up the hill. By an unfortunate

chance John Paul and Macconochie had that very morning found the

guinea piece - which was the root of all the evil - sticking in a

holly bush; they had been "up the gait," as the servants say at

Durrisdeer, to the change-house; and if they had little left of the

guinea, they had less of their wits. What must John Paul do but

burst into the hall where the family sat at dinner, and cry the

news to them that "Tam Macmorland was but new lichtit at the door,

and - wirra, wirra - there were nane to come behind him"?

They took the word in silence like folk condemned; only Mr. Henry

carrying his palm to his face, and Miss Alison laying her head

outright upon her hands. As for my lord, he was like ashes.

"I have still one son," says he. "And, Henry, I will do you this

justice - it is the kinder that is left."

It was a strange thing to say in such a moment; but my lord had

never forgotten Mr. Henry's speech, and he had years of injustice

on his conscience. Still it was a strange thing, and more than

Miss Alison could let pass. She broke out and blamed my lord for

his unnatural words, and Mr. Henry because he was sitting there in

safety when his brother lay dead, and herself because she had given

her sweetheart ill words at his departure, calling him the flower

of the flock, wringing her hands, protesting her love, and crying

on him by his name - so that the servants stood astonished.

Mr. Henry got to his feet, and stood holding his chair. It was he

that was like ashes now.

"Oh!" he burst out suddenly, "I know you loved him."

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