Whilst Lady Catherine's volubility overpowered even the philosophy of Dr. Campbell, she wondered--she never ceased wondering--that Mr. Forester did not appear, and that the doctor and Mrs. Campbell, and Henry and Flora, were not more alarmed. She proposed sending twenty different messengers after him. She was now convinced, that he had not fallen from Salisbury Craigs, because Dr. Campbell assured her ladyship, that he had a letter from him in his pocket, and that he was safe; but she thought that there was imminent danger of his enlisting in a frolic, or, perhaps, marrying some cobbler's daughter in a pet. She turned to Archibald Mackenzie, and exclaimed, "He was at a cobbler's; it could not be merely to mend his shoes. What sort of a lassy is the cobbler's daughter? or has the cobbler a daughter?" "She is hump-backed, luckily," said Dr. Campbell, coolly. "That does not signify," said Lady Catherine; "I'm convinced she is at the bottom of the whole mystery; for I once heard Mr. Forester say--and I'm sure you must recollect it, Flora, my dear, for he looked at you at the time--I once heard him say, that personal beauty was no merit, and that ugly people ought to be liked--or some such thing--out of humanity. Now, out of humanity, with his odd notions, it's ten to one, Dr. Campbell, he marries this cobbler's hump-backed daughter. I'm sure, if I were his guardian, I could not rest an instant with such a thought in my head." "Nor I," said Dr. Campbell, quietly; and in spite of her ladyship's astonishment, remonstrances, and conjectures, he maintained his resolute composure. THE GARDENER. The gardener who had struck Forester's fancy, was a square, thick, obstinate-eyed, hard-working, ignorant, elderly man, whose soul was intent upon his petty daily gains, and whose honesty was of that "coarse-spun, vulgar sort{6}," which alone can be expected from men of uncultivated minds. Mr. M'Evoy, for that was the gardener's name, was both good-natured and selfish; his views and ideas all centered in his own family; and his affection was accumulated and reserved for two individuals, his son and his daughter. The son was not so industrious as the father; he was ambitious of seeing something of the world, and he consorted with all the young 'prentices in Edinburgh, who would condescend to forget that he was a country boy, and to remember that he expected, when his father should die, _to be rich_. Mr. M'Evoy's daughter was an ugly, cross-looking girl, who spent all the money that she could either earn or save upon ribands and fine gowns, with which she fancied she could supply all the defects of her person. {Footnote 6: Mrs. Barbauld'a Essay on the Inconsistency of Human Expectations.}