“It’s ane o’ the auld Murrays--I dinna mind his name,” said Isabell; “but Miss Lucy had a conceit that it was like Mr Hew. They were a’ like ither; the same face came down, like the name, frae faither to son. That ane was a Hew too, I dinna doubt; it’s a guid name; they maun a’ have been fond o’t.” “Hew,” repeated Lilias, slowly, as if she too loved to linger on the sound; “Hew--yes, it is a pleasant name.” And she turned again with lingering looks and smiles of strange pleasure to the picture as she left the room. Halbert smiled too in wonder. He hardly could fancy an appropriate cause for such emotion in the wise, grave Lilias; and there was no such magic in any picture there for him. CHAPTER XVII. “He thinks well of himself, Sir--we all do it; and he thinks well of his fortune--happy he who can! and if myself am well, and my fortune is well, who shall resist me?”--OLD PLAY. The Manse of Fendie was a good-sized, substantial house, situated at the rural end of the Main Street, with very tolerable grounds about it, and a well-stocked, extensive garden behind. Within, there were three good sitting-rooms--dining-room, drawing-room, and library, as the Reverend Robert Insches was pleased to call them. His predecessor had been a man of good family and small pretensions. In his time the library was only a study, and the drawing-room a family parlour; but the Reverend Robert had changed all that. The furniture was all new, as it was natural that the furniture of a young man’s house should be, but it had a brassy look not very agreeable to the eye. The chairs stood so stiffly in their grim gentility, the carpets were so spotless, the tables so bright, that you felt afraid to disturb their solemn repose by presuming to make them serve the purposes of ordinary life; but if a stranger feared them, tenfold was the dread with which their dignified stillness impressed Miss Insches, the little, fat, roundabout sister of the Reverend Robert. With awe and reverence, she herself with her own plump hands dusted the sacred drawing-room; with fear for her own presumption, gingerly sat on the extreme edge of one of those wonderful rosewood chairs, when the drawing-room on solemn occasions was used. The Reverend Robert angrily lectured her for this foible; it was in vain. Miss Insches could not be otherwise than reverential of “the grand furniture.”