Unto a soul that abides most loving yet most withholding; Least unfeeling though calm, self-contained yet most unselfish; Renders help and accepts it, a man among men that are brothers, Views, not plucks the beauty, adores, and demands no embracing, So in its peaceful passage whatever is lovely and gracious Still without seizing or spoiling, itself in itself reproducing. No, I do not set Philip herein on the level of Arthur; No, I do not compare still tarn with furious torrent, Yet will the tarn overflow, assuaged in the lake be the torrent. Women are weak, as you say, and love of all things to be passive, Passive, patient, receptive, yea, even of wrong and misdoing, Even to force and misdoing with joy and victorious feeling Patient, passive, receptive; for that is the strength of their being, Like to the earth taking all things, and all to good converting. Oh ’tis a snare indeed!—Moreover, remember it, Philip, To the prestige of the richer the lowly are prone to be yielding, Think that in dealing with them they are raised to a different region, Where old laws and morals are modified, lost, exist not; Ignorant they as they are, they have but to conform and be yielding. But I have spoken of this already, and need not repeat it. You will not now run after what merely attracts and entices, Every-day things highly-coloured, and common-place carved and gilded. You will henceforth seek only the good: and seek it, Philip, Where it is—not more abundant, perhaps, but—more easily met with; Where you are surer to find it, less likely to run into error, In your station, not thinking about it, but not disregarding. So was the letter completed: a postscript afterward added, Telling the tale that was told by the dancers returning from Rannoch. So was the letter completed: but query, whither to send it? Not for the will of the wisp, the cloud, and the hawk of the moorland, Ranging afar thro’ Lochaber, Lochiel, and Knoydart, and Moydart, Have even latest extensions adjusted a postal arrangement. Query resolved very shortly, when Hope, from his chamber descending, Came with a note in his hand from the Lady, his aunt, at the Castle; Came and revealed the contents of a missive that brought strange tidings; Came and announced to the friends, in a voice that was husky with wonder, Philip was staying at Balloch, was there in the room with the Countess, Philip to Balloch had come and was dancing with Lady Maria. Philip at Balloch, he said, after all that stately refusal, He there at last—O strange! O marvel, marvel of marvels! Airlie, the Waistcoat, with Katie, we left him this morning at Rannoch; Airlie with Katie, he said, and Philip with Lady Maria. And amid laughter Adam paced up and down, repeating Over and over, unconscious, the phrase which Hope had lent him, Dancing at Balloch, you say, in the Castle, with Lady Maria. V