So Finella, though an heiress, came in for very little of it either, with all her sweetness, beauty, and pretty winning ways, even from Lord Fettercairn. In truth, the man who cared so little for his own country and her local and vital interests was little likely to care much for any flesh and blood that did not stand in his own boots. Lady Fettercairn heard from her 'grand-son' from time to time with--for her--deep apparent sympathy, and much genuine aristocratic regret and indignation, much of the obscure story of his boyhood and past life, at least so much as he chose to tell her; and she bitterly resented that Lennard Melfort should have sought to put the 'nephew of that woman, Flora MacIan,' into the army, while placing 'his own son' Shafto into the office of a miserable village lawyer, and so forth--and so forth! Fortunate it was, she thought, that all this happened in an obscure village in Devonshire, and far away from Craigengowan and all its aristocratic surroundings. She also thought it strange that Shafto--('Whence came that name?' she would mutter angrily)--should be so unlike her dark and handsome Lennard. His eyebrows were fair and heavy; his eyes were a pale, watery grey; his lips were thin, his neck thick, and his hair somewhat sandy in hue. Thus, she thought, he was not unlike what her husband, the present Lord Fettercairn, must have been at the same age. As for the Peer himself, he was only too thankful that an heir had turned up for his ill-gotten coronet, and that now--so far as one life was concerned--Sir Bernard Burke would not rate it among the dormant and attainted titles--those of the best and bravest men that Scotland ever knew. As for their mutual scheme concerning Shafto and their granddaughter Finella, with her beauty and many attractive parts, the former was craftily most desirous of furthering it, knowing well that, _happen what might_ in the future, she was an heiress; that marriage with her would give him a firm hold on the Fettercairn family, though the money of her mother was wisely settled on the young lady herself. Indeed, Finella had not been many weeks home from London, at Craigengowan, before Lady Fettercairn opened the trenches, and spoke pretty plainly to him on the subject. Waving her large fan slowly to and fro, and eyeing Shafto closely over the top of it, she said: 'I hope, my dearest boy, that you will find your cousin Finella--the daughter of my dead darling Cosmo--a lovable kind of girl. But even were she not so--and all say she is--you must not feel a prejudice against her, because--because----' 'What, grandmother?' 'Because it is our warmest desire that you may marry her.' 'Why, haven't I money enough?' asked Shafto, with one of his dissembling smiles. 'Of course, as the heir of Fettercairn; but one is always the better to have more, and you must not feel----' 'What?' asked Shafto, with affected impatience.