All which will be better explained by following the course of events after the death of Mr Bruce, beginning with a visit on the part of Lady Gorthley--as she was called according to the custom of the time, when titles were held in such regard that the common people even forged them for the great--along with her favourite daughter, Martha, to the office of Mr James Pollock, the agent for the family. That her ladyship was bent upon some enterprise of considerable moment might have been guessed from the look of her face, which had that mysterious air about it belonging to secrecy, nor less from that of the daughter; and no one could have doubted that, whatever they were bent upon, the other twin, Sarah, was not to be let up to the secret. Perhaps the time of the visit to the writer was opportune, insomuch as Sarah had gone, as she had said, with her cousin, George Walkinshaw, advocate, to take a stroll by the back of St Leonard’s as far as “the Cat Nick,” and come home by the Hunter’s Bog; which couple, we may also say, had their secret too, in addition to their love affair, if that secret was not connected with the very same subject we have referred to as that which divided the family. Be all that as it might, we are going right along with the facts of the plea when we set forth that in a very short time Lady Gorthley and Martha were seated each on a chair in the writing office of the said agent, Mr Pollock, and the very first words that came out of her ladyship’s mouth were these-- “Has Sarah or her cousin called upon you since the death of Gorthley?” by which she meant, according to the custom of the time, her own husband. “They are even at this moment in the other room, madam,” said he, with a lawyer’s smile on his face. “Indeed,” said her ladyship, with an expression of both surprise and anger. “Why, she told me an hour ago that she was going to take a walk by the ‘Cat Nick.’” “And so she has,” added the writer, still smiling, “for my door may not be inappropriately so called in the circumstances?” “Only, I presume,” said the lady, “I am not, I hope, to be included among the cats. I will wait until you have learned what the impertinent girl has got to say, and then you will have time to hear me and Martha.” “I already know that,” said he; “but, as I believe our conversation is about finished, I will despatch them in a few seconds, and then return to hear your ladyship’s commands.” “But you will say nothing of our being here.” “The never a word, madam,” said he, adding to himself as he went away, “I don’t want a battle of the cats in my office at least; they do best when they put the cheese into the hands of the ----,” and he did not add the word monkey, insomuch as it looked personal. “There, you see, Martha, the gipsy is determined to stand by her rights,” was the remark of her ladyship after Mr Pollock had left the room.