A slight smile of triumph hovered about the factor's mouth.--Mrs. Catherine perceived it. "On which I will have the annual rent paid to a day," she said, with some sternness, "as if I were the coldest stranger that ever heard of Archie Sutherland's needs or ill-doings, and, I trow, that is a wide word. If I had not purposed so, I might have given him the siller, for what is it to a woman of years like me? Truly, my own spirit bears me witness, that I would give that threefold, if it were mine to give, with a light heart, to restore the prodigal to the house of his fathers, as innocent as he went away. Let the business be done, Walter Foreman; doubtless, you will be taken up with the ploy to-morrow, and will be putting it off till after that." "We can get it done immediately," said Walter, somewhat sullenly. "What ails you, sir?" said Mrs. Catherine. "Should I have taken counsel with you on the secrets of my own spirit, think you?--I that am given to take counsel of no man. Be content, Walter Foreman--you are not an ill gallant, but have overmuch favor for your own wisdom, as is common at your years. If you live to count threescore, you will be an humbler man." "Our success is a most fortunate thing for Strathoran," said Mr. Ferguson, as they left the Tower. "But the letter--I would not receive such a letter as Mrs. Catherine will write, on such a subject, for the half of his estate." Walter Foreman shrugged his shoulders. "And yet she has the greatest regard for him. Mrs. Sutherland was betrothed to Mrs. Catherine's brother, when he died, people say; and it is her strange adoration of his memory that makes her so fond of young Strathoran. A singular consequent, one would think." "Mrs. Catherine is altogether singular," said Mr. Ferguson, "and not to be judged as people of the world are."