"Well, well," said the good-humored agriculturist. "He is not too old to be married yet, that is a consolation." "What would you say to Miss Ada Mina!" continued Mrs. Bairnsfather. "Miss Jeanie, I suppose, I must not speak of now." Ada Coulter shook her curls indignantly. She, full sixteen, and receiving the homage of an Honorable Giles, to be "scorned" with a minister of five and thirty! "Or Miss Ross?" said the mischief-making Mrs. Bairnsfather.--"They would make an excellent couple, I am sure." "I won't have that," said Lewis. "I have engaged Anne, Mrs. Bairnsfather; if she does not take my man, I'll disown her." "Anne, I want you," said Marjory Falconer: "come here." "Or Miss Falconer herself?" said the indefatigable Mrs. Bairnsfather turning sharp round, and directing the attention of all and sundry to Marjory's face, perfectly scorching as it was, with one of her overwhelming, passionate blushes, "and that would secure the contrast which people say is best for peace and happiness." Miss Falconer tried to laugh--the emphasis on the word _peace_ had not escaped her; she slid her arm through Anne's and left the room. The dark figure behind the curtain, followed her with his eye; laughed within himself a mighty secret laugh, and came out of his concealment, to the immense discomfiture of Mrs. Bairnsfather, and the great mirth of Giles and Ada. "That abominable woman!" exclaimed Marjory, as they went down stairs. "Hush," said Anne, "she is the minister's wife." "The minister's wife! there is never any peace where _she_ is.--She is a pretty person to think she can understand--" "Who, Marjory?" "Oh," said Marjory, with a less vehement blush, "it's because John Lumsden is so popular in Strathoran--you know that.--Come, let us go and see Kenneth Macalpine." They did go; poor Kenneth was feverish and unable for any further excitement, so they spoke a few kindly encouraging words to his mother, and left the room. Mrs. Euphan Morison had retreated to her own apartment, and sat there by the fire sulky and dignified--the doctor had absolutely forbidden her administering to the invalid a favorite preparation of her own which she was sure would cure him. Marjory and Anne turned to the great, warm, shining kitchen. The patriarch of Oranmore was dozing in a chair by the fire--the old man's mind was unsettled; he had returned to his native Gaelic, and had been speaking in wandering and incoherent sentences of the church-yard, and the right they had to the graves of their fathers. An aged woman, the grand-aunt of Duncan Roy and Flora, who had brought up the orphans, sat opposite to him, muttering and wringing her withered hands in pain. She had been long afflicted with rheumatism, and the exposure made her aged limbs entirely useless. She had to be lifted into her chair--and aggravating her bodily pain was the anguish of her mind: "The bairns--the bairns! what will become of the bairns?"