Edgar did not see Harry again till after dinner, and then he was stricken with sympathy to see how ill he looked. What had happened? But there was no time or opportunity to inquire what had happened to him. That evening the mail brought him a letter from Robert Campbell, at Loch Arroch Head, begging him, if he wanted to see his grandmother alive, to come at once. She was very ill, and it was not possible that she could live more than a day or two. He made his arrangements instantly to go to her, starting next morning, for he was already too late to catch the night mail. When he set out at break of day, in order to be in time for the early train from London, he found Margaret already at the station. She had been summoned also. He had written the night before a hurried note to Gussy, announcing his sudden call to Loch Arroch, but he was not aware then that he was to have companionship on his journey. He put his cousin into the carriage, not ill-pleased to have her company, and then, leaving many misconceptions behind him, hurried away, to wind up in Scotland one portion of his strangely-mingled life. CHAPTER XIX. Margaret. The relations between Harry Thornleigh and Margaret had never come to any distinct explanation. They had known each other not much more than a fortnight, which was quite reason enough, on Margaret’s side, at least, for holding back all explanation, and discouraging rather than helping on the too eager young lover. During all the time of Edgar’s absence, it would be useless to deny that Harry’s devotion suggested very clearly to the penniless young widow, the poor doctor’s sister, such an advancement in life as might well have turned any woman’s head. She who had nothing, who had to make a hard light to get the ends to meet for the doctor and herself, who had for years exercised all the shifts of genteel poverty, and who, before that, had been trained to a homely life anything but genteel--had suddenly set open to her the gates of that paradise of wealth, and rank, and luxury, which is all the more ecstatic to the poor for being unknown. She, too, might “ride in her carriage,” might wear diamonds, might go to Court, might live familiarly with the great people of the land, like Lady Mary; she who had been bred at the Castle Farm on Loch Arroch, and had known what it was to “supper the beasts,” and milk the kye; she who had not disdained the household work of her own little house, in the days of the poor young Glasgow clerk whom she had married. There had been some natural taste for elegance in the brother and sister, both handsome young people, which had developed into gentility by reason of his profession, and their escape from all the associations of home, where no one could have been deceived as to their natural position. But Dr. Charles had made no money anywhere; he had nothing but debts; though from the moment when he had taken his beautiful sister to be his