She remained quietly at Bowstead, and none of them saw her except her son and the Major, to the latter of whom her husband brought a message that she would esteem it a favour if he would come and visit her there, the day before he returned to Carminster. Very much affected, the good Major complied with her request, went down with Mr. Wayland and spent a night at Bowstead. He found that she had accepted her fate with the good grace of a woman whose first instinct was not to make herself disagreeable. She was rather pale, and not “made up” in any way, but exquisitely though more simply dressed, and more beautiful than ever, her cousin thought, as he always did whenever he came into her presence. She was one of those people whose beauty is always a fresh surprise, and she was far more self-possessed than he was. “So, Cousin Harry, where am I to begin my congratulations! I did you and unwitting service when I sent your daughter to search among those musty old parchments. I knew my father believed in the existence of some such document, but I thought all those hoards in Delavie House were devoid of all legal importance, and had been sifted again and again. Besides, I always meant to settle that old house upon you.” “I have always heard so, cousin,” he answered. “But it was such a mere trifle,” she added, “that it never seemed worth while to set the lawyers to work about that alone, so I waited for other work to be in hand.” “There is a homely Scottish proverb, my Lady, which declares that the scrapings of the muckle pot are worth the wee pot fu’. A mere trifle to you is affluence to us.” “I am sincerely rejoiced at it, Harry” (no doubt she thought she was), “you will keep up the old name, while my scrupulous lord and master gives up my poor patrimony to the extortionate creditors for years to come. It is well that the young lovers have other prospects. So Harry, you see after all, I kept my word, and your daughter is provided for,” she continued with an arch smile. “Pretty creature, I find my son bears me more malice than she does for the robbery that was perpetrated on her. It was too tempting, Harry. Nature will repair her loss, but at out time of life we must beg, borrow, or steal.” “That was the least matter,” said the Major gravely. “This is the reason why I wished to see you,” said my Lady, laying her white hand on his, “I wanted to explain.” “Cousin, cousin, had not you better leave it alone?” said Major Delavie. “You know you can always talk a poor man out of his senses at the moment.”