"_Humph!_ I am believing no such fairy-tale. Why would a rich beauty be wanting David Campbell?" "David is a very handsome man." "Mrs. Oliphant seemed to think so!" "Every one thinks so." "I hope she is not a Methodist." "She is a Roman Catholic." "A Roman Catholic! A Campbell can get no further downward than that. Your forefathers fought--and, thank God, mostly killed--a Roman Catholic on sight. Ah weel, I suppose it is the money." "Oh, no! David would not marry for money." "He didn't anyhow. He married a poor, plain, beggarly sewing-girl." "She was a minister's daughter, and he loved her." "Weel, Robert Campbell, I hope you have emptied your creel o' bad news. If you have any more tak' it back to where it came from. I'll not listen to another word from you." "I must ask you, what you wish about this house? If you desire to remain here, I will not sell it." "I'll not stop in it, any longer than it takes me to move out o' it. You are no kin to me now, and thank God, I am not come to a dependence on a Scotch turncoat, or even an American citizen!" "Do you think Christina would like the use o' it?" "Christina is doing better. Rathey is going to be man-of-law and private secretary to Sir Thomas, and they are to have the Wynton Dower House to live in, a handsome place in a big garden." "Will you go with her, mother?" "It is none of your business where I go. I would not ask a shelter from you, if I were going to the poor-house. I am going where I'll be rid of whimpering wives, and whining bairns, and fleeching, flattering folk, who want siller for their fine words. I'm done with the old, unhappy house. Sell it as soon as you like. It was an ill day when I stepped o'er its threshold." "Then good-bye, mother. Say a kind word to me. We may meet no more in this world." He advanced towards her and put out his hand. She rose and lifted her solitaire pack of cards--which was lying on the table by which she stood--and began shuffling them in her hands. "You ungrateful son of your mother Scotland and your mother Campbell!" she cried. "You traitor to every obligation due your family! You slave to a Methodist wife, go to your Papist-loving brother. California is a proper home for you. _Dod!_ I am sick of the whole lot o' you--lads and lassies baith--Isabel is o'er much 'my lady' for any sensible body to thole; and Christina is aye sniffling and worrying about her bairns, or her silly, fiddling husband. I am sick, tired--heart and soul tired--o' the serpent brood o' you Campbells; and you may scatter yoursel's o'er the face o' the whole earth, for aught I care," and with these words she flung the cards in her hand far and wide, over the large room. She was in an incredible passion, and Robert put his hand on her arms, crying in terror and amazement: "Mother! Mother! Mother! For God's sake I entreat----"