"It's past counting, that kindred," said Mrs. Catherine; "we could reckon it in my generation, that is with Alison's grand-mother and the last family of Falconers passing the father of Ralph and Marjory, who was an only son, and died young--a poor peasweep he was, that might never have been born at all, for all the good he did!--and it was only a third or fourth cousinship then. I want the bairn to go to Falcon's Craig, more for a diversion to her, than any other thing: and doubtless we must have festivities of our own, also. I will borrow your French serving-man from you, Lewis, to teach us a right manner of rejoicing." "You shall have him, with all my heart," said Lewis, with some offended dignity; "only, I fear John would not take his orders from Mrs. Morison. He is too sensitive." "Set him up!" exclaimed Mrs. Catherine. "Sensitive, truly! Then you must e'en keep him and humor him yourself, Lewis. I am plaguit enough in my own household. There is Euphan Morison waylaying me with herbs. I caught her my ownself, this very morning, wileing the bairn Alison into poisoning herself with a drink made from dockens: the odor of them has not left me yet." "It was only camomile," whispered Alice. "Never you heed what it was," said Mrs. Catherine. "Unwholesome trash that she calls good for the stomach, as if a bairn like Alison had any call to know whither she had a stomach or no! I have no patience with them. Jacky, you evil spirit, what are ye wanting now?" "If you please," said Jacky, "It's Mr. Foreman--" Mrs. Catherine started. "Where is he?" "And a strange man with him, dressed like a gentleman," continued Jacky. "They're in the library, Mrs. Catherine." Mrs. Catherine rose hurriedly. "Bairns, you will tarry till I come back. I am not like to be long." Mr. Foreman, the acute, and sagacious writer of Portoran, was seated in the library when Mrs. Catherine entered, and a man of equivocal appearance, bearded like the pard, who had been swaggering round the room, examining, with an eye of assumed connoisseurship, the dark family portraits on the wall, turned round at the sound of her step to make an elaborate bow. Mrs. Catherine looked at him impatiently. "Well, Mr. Foreman, have you brought me any tidings?" "I have brought you no direct tidings, Mrs. Catherine, but this,"--Mr. Foreman looked dubiously at the stranger--"this _gentleman_, whom I met accidentally in Portoran, is charged with a mission, the particulars of which I thought you would like to know, being deeply interested in Mr. Sutherland." "Maiden aunt," murmured the stranger. "Ah! I see." "You seem to have clear eyes, Sir," said Mrs. Catherine, sternly. "Mr. Sutherland will be a friend of yours, doubtless?" "Ah! a fine young fellow--most promising lad!" was the answer. "Might be a credit to any family. I have the honor of a slight acquaintance. Nothing could be more edifying than his walk and conversation, I assure you, Madam."