“I assure you,” said Verna, “there is no other way of doing--and then to us, as my sister says, it has no associations; besides, it is not beautiful, and of no use; and it is there the new wing must be built.” “Does Mr. Charles know?” asked the Doctor solemnly. “Oh, please don’t talk of Mr. Charles!” cried Matilda, vaguely perceiving that her side was having the worst, and beginning to cry; “it reminds me so of my poor dear Charlie. I cannot bear to hear the name. Please call him old Mr. Heriot, or something. When I think how I am left alone to struggle with everything, and poor, poor dear Charlie, who never would let the wind blow upon me! Please don’t talk of the old man by his name--please!” Mrs. Murray’s kind eyes were quite moistened by this appeal. “No, my dear!” she said soothingly; “no, my dear! Well, well do I know the feeling; and when I mind that dear boy--what a fine fellow he was--just the age of my Robert! Many and many a time I have held him in my arms. Oh, my dear, I beg your pardon!” cried the kind old woman, rising--with the tears dropping from her eyes, to kiss the young widow on her sofa. Matilda did not know what compunctions were expressed in this caress; and, to tell the truth, she submitted with a very bad grace to the salute, which she rather thought was a piece of presumptuous familiarity on the part of the Minister’s wife towards herself, a lady of property. The Doctor, however, this time resisted the beauty and the tears, and was less easily moved than his wife proved herself. Beauty is a fine thing, and tears are touching; but an assault upon property--property which, to a certain extent, is national, the antiquities which give importance to a parish--is not to be permitted even on such considerations. Dr. Murray was alarmed. If this was done in the green tree, what would be done in the dry? The Heriots of Pitcomlie were the chief heritors in the parish; and what if they should take upon them to interfere with the church or churchyard? “I am sorry,” he said stiffly, “to have roused such very painful but natural feelings. I will endeavour to be more guarded again; but what I would ask is, does he--of whom we speak--know about this proceeding--or rather, I should say, this intention on your part? If he does not, I fear it would be my duty to tell him--” “Could he do anything to us? he has no right,” cried Verna, “to interfere.” “I hope he could; I hope he has!” said the Doctor. “He is joint guardian with the mother; and it will be my duty to let him know.” “I will not have old Mr. Heriot interfering!” cried Matilda. “He has nothing to do with us. Poor Charlie put him in his will only out of compliment--”