"That is what I am saying," said Mrs. Catherine. "She has been misbehaving herself, and we have noticed her pining away, in silence. So far as I can see, it is high time to take note of it now; therefore my petition is, that you suffer her to go with me. It is not my wont to pass over ill-doing; let me have the guiding of her for a while." "I think you ought to take advantage of Mrs. Catherine's invitation, Anne," said Lewis. "You do not look well." Mrs. Ross tossed her head in silence. "Truly, Anne," said Mrs. Catherine, "I have worn out of the way of asking favors; maybe it is want of use that makes me prosper so ill. Am I to get your daughter, Mrs. Ross for company on my travel, or am I not? I must pray you to let me have your answer." "Oh, if you choose to take her, and if Anne chooses to go, my consent is of little consequence," said Mrs. Ross: then softening her tone a little, she added, "I have no objection, unfortunately Anne is not of sufficient importance in the household, Mrs. Catherine, to make us feel the want of her greatly. Certainly I have no objection--she can go." A harsh reply rose to Mrs. Catherine's lips; but for Anne's sake, she, suppressed it--the permission, ungracious as it was, was accepted, and Mrs. Catherine made arrangements with Anne for their journey; she had settled that they should leave the Tower that week. Mrs. Catherine travelled in her own carriage. She had an old house, grand and solitary, in an old quarter of Edinburgh, whose antique furniture and lofty rooms strangers came to see, as one of the lesser wonders of the city, which boasts so many. Mrs. Catherine's horses were proceeding at a good pace along the southward road, within sight of a dazzling sea, and very near the dark high cliffs, and scattered fisher villages which formed its margin. Johnnie Halflin sat beside the coachman, Jacky Morison and her grandmother were behind. Mrs. Catherine within was explaining her plans to Anne. "It is my purpose, child, to set you to your labor again; I see there is neither health nor peace for you until you have got some better inkling of this matter. Am I not right?" "Perfectly," said Anne. "I cannot rest, indeed. I shall be of little use to any one, until some light is thrown on this." "Then, child, it is my meaning to dwell in my own house in Edinburgh, where you can find me, if I am needed. I cannot be in the house of a stranger, or I would have gone with you. I am not ill-pleased that this necessity has come, for there are many in Edinburgh, that it is meet I should say farewell to, before I depart to my rest. Forbye this, child, there is another cloud rising upon the sky of that ill-trysted house of Sutherland." Anne started. "Archibald is well--is there any further intelligence, Mrs. Catherine?" "Archie's sister is not well, Gowan. Did I not tell you that her fuil of a man was dead?" "No, I never heard it before."