"There is nothing to see, mother." "I am ashamed of you, Christina. It is a town of the greatest antiquity, and was, as you ought to know, the capital of the Dalriadan kingdom in the sixth and seventh century." "I know all about its antiquities, mother. I wish I didn't." "Christina, what is the matter with you to-day?" "I am tired of living, mother." "Robert, do you hear your sister?" "Why are you tired of living, Christina?" asked Robert, not unkindly. "We do not live, brother; that is the reason." "What do you mean?" "Life is variety. To us every day is the same, except the Sabbath, and that is the worst day of all. I don't blame you, brother, for a desperate effort to change your life. If I were a man I should run away." "What do you mean by a desperate effort, Christina?" "I mean marriage. Sometimes I feel that I would run away with any man that would marry me." "_Hush!_ Such a feeling is shameful. What do you wish instead of Campbelton?" The courage of the desperate possessed Christina and she answered: "I should like to travel. I want to see Edinburgh and London and Paris like other girls whose families have money, and Isabel feels as badly at our restrictions as I do." "What do you say, mother? Will you go with the girls to Edinburgh and London? Paris is out of the question. I will pay all expenses." "I will do nothing of the kind. I am going to Campbelton. I suppose the girls can go by themselves." "You know better, mother." "English girls go all over the world by themselves, and some kinds of Scotch girls are beginning to think mothers an unnecessary institution." Robert looked at Isabel, and she said: "We might have a courier. I mean a lady courier." "I will not permit my daughters to go stravaging round the world with any strange woman. Robert, I think you have behaved most imprudently to propose any such thing." "In _your_ company, mother, was my suggestion. I do think an entire change of people and surroundings would do both you and my sisters a great deal of good." "Changes are plentiful; too many are now in progress." So the subject died in bad temper, and Robert felt his proffered kindness to have been very ungraciously received. But when he rose from the table, Christina touched his arm as he passed her chair. "Thank you, brother," she said. "You wished to give us a little pleasure. It is not your fault we are deprived of it." He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and her weary, plaintive voice touched his heart, so he turned to his mother and said: "Think of what I have proposed. I will not stint you in expenses. Give the girls and yourself a little pleasure--do." "Your own expenses are going to be tremendous, Robert, furnishing, travelling and what not. I can't conscientiously increase them." At these words Christina left the room. Robert did not answer his mother's remark, but he looked at Isabel, and she understood the look as entrusting the further prosecution of the subject to her.