The little money that Mary could spare from what she had been able to realise by the hasty sale of two pet cows and the stock of her fowl-yard, she bestowed, as far as she could, upon Elspat and other old servants, all of whom were bowed down with wonder, grief and alarm at movements and changes so unexpected; and she felt that she would be glad when the parting with all--the final wrench--was over. Between her and these subordinates there was a closer bond of sympathy than usually exists between mistress and servant--even in Scotland--now-a-days, and can scarcely be found south of the Tweed. 'My English readers,' says an English writer on this subject, 'will probably ridicule such a feeling on the part of a servant, for the majority of them are of the belief that money is the only connecting link of a household. So long as wages are regularly paid and the ordinary meals provided, a servant has only to do her duty properly, and leaves it as utter a stranger as when she entered it. There is no obligation on either side, and, if she goes, some one will be found to take her place.' But it is not quite so yet in the kindly north country, especially the further north we go; for the influences of the old feudal system, and of the still older and dearer ties of clanship, linger among the hills and glens, knitting all ranks and conditions of men together, and long, long may they continue to do so. CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE BRINK. Of a more nervous organisation than Mary, Ellinor, suffering from reaction of spirits and a keen sense of all she had recently undergone, was far from well, and, amid the bustle of preparation for departure, remained much in the seclusion of her own room. It was September now, we have said. The autumnal weather and autumnal tints had come somewhat early, and occasional showers brought coolness and freshness to the birchen woods, and pleasant odours came from them and even from the dusty highway and the parched meadows, where the rich after-grass was ready for the scythe, and the grouse on the Perthshire hills had become but too fatally familiar with the crack and clatter of the breech-loader in the heathery glens. Mary Wellwood had of late worked hard, very hard, rising earlier and going to bed later--so much so that her sweet face was beginning to look thin and careworn, and old Elspat remonstrated that she did not give herself time to take her meals, but 'was for ever think, think, thinking and worrying over accounts and market-books.'