'What, girl?' asked Sir Piers, peevishly, for he had not again referred to the suspected fancy for Cecil Falconer, though his mind was full of it. 'Falsehood and dishonesty, rank injustice, and shameful!' 'Well--anything more?' he continued angrily. 'Yes--destruction of soul and body, perhaps.' 'Mary, you do not look beyond the present,' said Sir Piers, with growing sternness, to find his pet scheme so vigorously opposed; 'hence it is my imperative duty to do that for you, and with a firm will and resolute hand to scheme out a happy future.' 'How miserably had he schemed out the future of his poor dead son!' thought Mrs. Garth, as she led Mary away in tears and anger. Meanwhile, if Hew looked upon himself as the future lord and master of Mary Montgomerie and her thousands, still more surely did he look upon himself as the future laird, lord, and master of Eaglescraig and all that appertained thereto; and while impatiently looking forward to the day of his succession, gave himself, unknown to Sir Piers, such airs with old and valued adherents, such as John Balderstone the factor, Tunley the aged butler, whose taste in wine he scouted; Pate Pastern the head groom, who was cognisant of some of his tricks on the turf; old Sandy Swanshott the head keeper, with even Mrs. Garth and others, that, certes, he won anything but golden opinions from all! Between him and John Balderstone there was a species of smouldering feud. The latter loved and revered Sir Piers, and always winced when Hew showed, as he had the coarseness and ill-feeling to do, that he actually prayed for the sudden or premature arrival of the time when he should figure as Sir Hew Montgomerie; premature it could scarcely be now, though the hale old man seemed to have years of life in him yet. Mr. Balderstone was not slow in perceiving how Hew disliked their late visitor, Cecil Falconer, and thus was disposed to vaunt his praises in the mere spirit of opposition. 'I can't perceive the fellows' merits in any way,' growled Hew with an oath, as they entered the smoking-room one evening. 'That I can very well believe,' replied the old gentleman, drily. 'How--why?' demanded Hew, suspecting something in his tone. 'Plainly, then, to do so would argue the existence of what you do not possess.' 'What is that--perception?' 'No.' 'What then?' 'Some refinement of taste,' replied Mr. Balderstone, his dark grey eyes beaming as he made a home-thrust, for which Hew quickly revenged himself in a fashion of his own, causing the portly Mr. Balderstone, as he seated himself, to spring up with a malediction. 'What the devil is the row?' asked Hew. 'Only this, sir, that you have placed a pair of sharp jack-spurs upon the chair you so politely accorded me!' 'And you have a sanguinary sense of sitting down on the rowels--eh?' said Hew, laughing heartily, and not even attempting an apology, while his shifty eyes now beamed with delight.