'And has it come to this, that a daughter of mine has actually received a love-letter! You! Sophia Sangster! what kind of conduct do you practise, that a libert---- a----young man feels encouraged to write you a love letter, and make you a proposal? Where has been your maidenliness? Your common sense of propriety? When I was a young woman, no man breathing would have presumed to write about love to me!' 'Mamma! I have done nothing. The letter is as great a surprise to me as it can be to you!' 'But you _ought_ to have done something. If you had behaved with becoming propriety and decorum, he never would have had the courage to write. But you never had proper spirit! Go to your room, Miss!' Sophia withdrew in open-eyed amazement. She was not prone to tears, and under long habitude had become somewhat callous to strong language. Her mother's ebulition merely added an accession to the bewilderment Roderick's letter was already occasioning her. Other girls in the parish had been married, and it seemed to her, that, somehow, their bridegrooms must have spoken or written to express their wishes, else how came they to be known? and none of these had been more frequent visitors at the homes of their future brides, than had Roderick been at her father's. The imputation of unmaidenliness, then, had been only one of her mother's tantrums, things she had been used to all her life, and knew to contain more noise than mischief. She must not return an answer to the letter--that seemed all the outburst meant, and it was rather a relief to her to think so, for, to tell the truth, she would not have known what to say. Roderick's grave and sacramental way of putting the matter, seemed to make any light and ordinary answer akin to blasphemy, and how otherwise was one to answer, where feelings were barely up to the level of commonplace? So she sat herself down with her hands in her lap, and thought afresh over her remarkable letter. Mrs. Sangster walked up and down her room, 'frying,' as her cook would have said, with indignation, at this abandoned young man, who, steeped in iniquity, had yet dared to raise his eyes to her dovecot. She would have liked to hound him through every court of the Church, and to let loose every cur in the parish at his heels; but after what Mr. Sangster had said about actions for libels, and the Court of Session, there was no use thinking of that. She stamped her foot in her impatience, and anon wiped her eyes, as she thought of the pathetic helplessness of her gentle and interesting sex. No notice should be taken of the letter; that was as much as she could venture on. But how had it come? That was worth knowing.