There was great indignation concerning the ejection of the Macalpines, and as soon as it was known that Giles had been present, a little crowd gathered round him. He told the story with great feeling; described Big Duncan Macalpine's conduct with enthusiasm; touched slightly on his own fears for poor Kenneth; and laughed when he told them of his race. Mrs. Catherine drew near at that point of the story, and extending her hand over Ada's curles, patted him kindly on the head. The Honorable Giles felt rather indignant--it was making a child of him. No matter--Ada Coulter thought him a hero. A graver group were discussing the subject at the other end of the room. Mr. Lumsden told the story there. Mr. Coulter and Mr. Ferguson were bending forward to him with anxious faces.--The ladies were no less interested. Anne Ross leant on the sofa at Mrs. Coulter's elbow. Marjory Falconer stood apart, with her hand upon the back of a chair, and her strong and expressive face swept by whirlwinds--indignation, grief, sympathy--all mellowed, however, by a singular shade of something that looked very like proud and affectionate admiration--of whom was Marjory Falconer proud? "Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Lumsden, "you must assist me.--I have set my heart upon it, Mr. Coulter, that these families shall not be sent penniless to Canada. I don't like emigration at all, but in this case it would be nothing less than banishment--what can we do for them?" Mr. Coulter took a pinch of snuff. "It is not a bad thing emigration, Mr. Lumsden; if there was no emigration, what would become of these vast waste lands? I suppose we might pour our whole population into the backwoods, and there would still be unreclaimed districts. Depend upon it, Sir, it comes very near a sin to let land, that should be bringing forth seed and bread, lie waste and desolate, when there are men to work it." "Well," said Mr. Lumsden, "we won't argue about that. It may be right enough--I only say I don't like emigration; and we have abundance of waste lands at home, Mr. Coulter; but in the case of the Macalpines, it could bear no aspect but banishment.--I believe they would almost starve first. What can we do for them?" There was a pause of consideration. "Robert," said Mrs. Ferguson. Her husband looked round. "When you commence your improvements, you will require many laborers--would not the Macalpines do? We were thinking of taking Flora to be one of our maids at Woodsmuir, you know--other people, no doubt, would do the same. What do you think?" Mr. Ferguson spent a moment in deliberation; then he looked up to Mr. Coulter inquiringly. "Not a bad idea," said the agriculturist. "I was thinking of that myself," said Mr. Ferguson. "There is not a very great number of them: we shall surely be able to keep them in the district; and there is always the hope," the good factor endeavored to look very sanguine and cheerful--"there is always the hope of Mr. Archibald's return."