“Of course, Miss Allenders, my father would never dream of forcing his advice upon you. All I have to say is, that in case you are disposed to sell the land, as we heard you were, Sir John would be glad to make you an offer for part of it--that is all.” “I am much obliged to Sir John Dunlop,” said Martha, “but we have no intention--I cannot see we have any right--to dispose of any part of Allenders. Thanks, many thanks; but we must try to increase, not to alienate.” After some time, Mr. Dunlop went away. He did not understand the quiet gravity with which he was received, and carried home such an account of Martha’s callousness, that his sister laughed scornfully, and said Miss Allenders had provided for herself, and would soon recover of her grief. Good Lady Dunlop only shook her head, and secretly resolved to call at Allenders, and see about this for herself; she could not believe that Harry’s trusted sister was callous to his loss, when she herself, Lady Dunlop, who never had known death, except twenty years ago, when she lost a very little lisping child--a meeting with the adversary which she never could forget--always lifted her handkerchief to her eyes, and gave a sigh to poor Allenders when his name was mentioned. She could not believe in Martha’s hardness of heart. “It must be attended with very considerable expense,” said Charteris. “You must either part with Allenders, or double its value--there is no alternative. And I do not see at present where this necessary seed of capital is to be procured. But, we must try. You will come to Edinburgh then, on Monday, and see the creditor?” “That is four thousand pounds, and Miss Jean one; and I have heard there were other bills,” said Martha. “Yes, I will go on Monday. Can we pay all this, do you think, in one lifetime? And then there is the present money to be thought of; another thousand they say would do. We could manage to pay the interest of all that.” “But not to live besides,” said Cuthbert, hastily. Martha’s head rose with a slight proud motion. “I have provided for that,” she said, with haughtiness; but immediately softening, added so frankly that Cuthbert was touched almost to tears: “I mean we are all ready to work, and very willing. We are now as we were before we came to Allenders; one is not--but what remains to do is for him; and we, all of us, sisters, and dearest to each other, are as we were.” As she concluded, her tears fell silently upon the desk before her. “God is visiting my heart with the dews of youth,” said Martha, looking up with a sad smile of surprise. “I can cry now, whenever I would, like a bairn.” And Cuthbert, who was a man, and a strong one, felt his heart swell; and with a strong impulse of help, bethought himself what he could do for those sisters, to aid them in their work.