"Perhaps she may be better than we expect. One can never tell what the unknown may turn out to be. Mother is inclined to be suspicious of all strangers," said Isabel. "If mother's eyes were out, she would see faults in any one." "Perhaps, if they were coming into Traquair House. She does not trouble herself about people who leave the Campbells alone." "She spoke of poor brother David to-night. Did you notice it?" "Yes." "It was the first time I have heard her mention him since he left us." "She has spoken of him to me, three or four times--a word or two--no more." "Do you know where he is?" "No." "Does mother know?" "No." "Does any one know?" "No. Mother is sure he is dead. I think so myself. He would have written to Robert if he was alive. He was gey fond of Robert." "I was at school when he went away. I never heard why he went, for when I came home I was forbidden to name him. Did he do anything wrong?" "No, no! You must not suppose such a thing. He was the most loving and honorable of men." "Then why did he go away? Do you know?" "Yes, I know all about it." "Tell me, Isabel. I will never name the subject again. What did he do?" "Just what Robert has done--married a girl not wanted in the family." "Who was the girl? Why was she not wanted?" "Her name was Agnes Symington. She was a minister's daughter." "Was she pretty?" "Very pretty, and good and sweet as a woman could be." "Pretty, and good, and sweet, and a minister's daughter! What more did mother want?" "Money." "Was she poor?" "Yes. Her father was dead, and she had learned dressmaking to support her mother and herself. She came to make our winter dresses, and David saw her and loved her. Though she was a minister's daughter, mother had always sent her to the servants' table, and she was nearly mad to think David had married a girl from the servants' table. It was disgraceful--in a way. The servants talked, and so did every one that knew us. But David loved her, and when he went he took both Agnes and her mother with him." "What did father say?" "He took David's part. He took it angrily. He amazed us. He sold David's share in the works for him, and so let strangers into the company, and he sent him away with his blessing, and plenty of money. David was crying when he bid father good-bye; and father was never the same after David left. We always believed that father knew where he went, and that he heard from him, through Mr. Oliphant or Dr. Robertson. But mother could get no words from him about David, except 'The boy did right. God pity the man whose wife is chosen for him!' I think father had to marry mother to save the works. I think so; I was not told it as a fact. Do not breathe a word of what I have told you. It is a dead story. David and father are both gone, and I dare say David's wife is married again."