“And the heir if this bonnie lad should--die--or fail----” This was spoken with an eagerness which puzzled him more and more. He felt that he was put on his defence. And yet there was no indignation in her look. It was guilt of conscience that startled him, and brought the colour to his cheek. “Well,” he said, crimson and angry with consciousness, “what then? My cousin is much younger, and more likely to live than I am. Nothing can be more unlikely than that I should be his heir. That has nothing to do with what I want to know.” “Aye, he’s younger than you, and far liker to live. He’s strong, and he’s got a constitution that will bear trouble. _I_ should ken,” she said under her breath, whispering to herself. And then she too coloured, and faced him with a certain gleam of fear in her eyes. “Aye,” she repeated, “Mr. Edgar’s a bonnie lad, bless him, and real well and strong. It’s no likely you’ll ever live to be his heir.” “It is unnecessary to remind me of that; haven’t I just said it?” said Arthur, hastily. “I trust he’ll live a hundred years. That has nothing to do with the matter.” “A hundred years!” said old Sarah. “That’s a great age. I know’d an ou’d man up Thornleigh way--but, bless you, Mr. Edgar’s young and strong--as like as not he’ll live to a hundred. I never heard as he’d anything the matter all his life. It would be a credit to the family, I do declare----” “And so it would,” said Arthur, with a smile of disdain. “No, you need not be afraid,” he went on, turning again to Mrs. Murray. “I am ten years older than he is. I am a poor devil without a penny, and he has everything. Never mind. I am going to write a book about the family, and that will make me rich. I can’t do your favourite any harm----” “Has he everything?” said the Scotchwoman, earnestly. “You’ll no think me presuming, Mr. Arden, but I would like to hear. It’s no fair to the rest when everything goes to one. I canna think it is fair. He should share with you a bit of the land, or some of the siller, or one thing or another. And you as sib to the race as he? I would like well to ken----” “It is very good of you to take my interest so much to heart,” said Arthur, with a certain contempt which was not unmixed with bitterness. “No, nothing comes to me. One cousin is a prince and one is a beggar. That’s the way of the world. So you can’t tell me Mrs. Arden’s name, nor anything about her friends or her family? Had she any one with her except her husband when you made her acquaintance? What kind of a woman did you take her to be?----” “I ken neither her name nor her kin, nor nought about her. They were travelling, and no a creature with them, no even a maid--but there might be reasons. She was a young sorrowful thing, sore broken down with a tyrant of a man. That is all I can tell; and whatever was done, good or evil, was his doing, and not hers. It was him that did, and said, and settled everything. I have nothing more to say----”