“Oh, what have we to be grateful for?--our own mamma gone away and we’ll never see her more; and another woman--another--a Mistress Ogilvie----” In her rage and despair she pronounced every syllable, with what bitterness and burning scorn and fury! Uncle John drew her little hands down from her face and held them in his own, which were not small, but very firm, though they were soft. “Your own mother was a very good woman, Effie,” said Uncle John. The girl paused and looked at him with those fiery eyes which were not softened, but made more angry, by her tears, not seeing how this bore upon the present crisis of affairs. “Have you any reason to suppose that being herself, as we know she is, with the Lord whom she loved”--and here Uncle John took off his hat as if he were saluting the dearest and most revered of friends--“that she would like you and the rest to be miserable all your lives because she was away?” “Miserable!” cried Effie. “We were not miserable; we were quite happy; we wanted nothing. Papa may care for new people, but we were happy and wanted nothing, Eric and me.” “Then, my little Effie,” said Uncle John, “it is not because of your own mother that you are looking like a little fury--for you see you have learned to let her go, and do without her, and be quite contented in a new way--but only because your father has done the same after his fashion, and it is not the same way as yours.” “Oh, Uncle John, I am not contented,” cried Effie, conscience-stricken; “I think of mamma every day.” “And are quite happy,” he said with a smile, “as you ought to be. God bless her up yonder, behind the veil. She is not jealous nor angry, but happy too. And we will be very good friends with Mistress Ogilvie, you and me. Come and see that everything is ready for her, for she will not have an easy handful with you two watching her night and day.” CHAPTER II. Though Mr. Moubray said this, it is not to be supposed that he liked his brother-in-law’s second marriage. It was not in flesh and blood to do that. Gilston House must always be the most important house in that parish to the minister; for it is at once nearest to the manse, and the house in which he is most likely to find people who have at least the outside gloss of education. And he had been used to go there familiarly for nearly twenty years. He had been a favourite with the old people, Mr. Ogilvie’s father and mother, and when their son succeeded them he was already engaged to the minister’s young sister. There was therefore a daily habit of meeting for nearly a lifetime. The two men had not always agreed. Indeed it was not in human nature that they should not have sometimes disagreed strenuously, one being the chief heritor, restraining every expenditure, and the other the minister, who was always, by right of his position, wanting to have something done.