‘What is to hinder the wedding? My dear Mrs. Somerville, you puzzle me.’ ‘Ah,’ she said, nodding her head slowly up and down, ‘you are right to ask, and I can tell you that _Mr. Speid_ may hinder the wedding.’ ‘You are speaking in riddles,’ said the lawyer, ‘I may be dull, but I cannot follow you.’ ‘If I tell what I know, you will get me into trouble,’ she said, shaking her forefinger at him; ‘there is no trusting you men.’ ‘Surely you will make an exception in my case! What have I done to merit your distrust?’ ‘Many shocking things, I have no doubt,’ she replied, archly. ‘Ma’am, you are cruel!’ he exclaimed, with a languishing look. He could have beaten her, for he was writhing with internal curiosity. ‘Well, well; do not take it so to heart,’ said she, ‘and promise that you will not betray me. Yesterday, after breakfast, a disreputable person, a Mrs. Stirk, who seems to be known about here--_I_ know nothing about her--asked to speak to the Captain. I was sitting at the breakfast-table, but the door was open, so what they said was forced upon me; really _forced upon me_, Mr. Barclay. Mrs. Stirk said that she had seen Miss Raeburn and that she was crying--it was a very improbable story--and that she was breaking her heart for Mr. Speid; she had the impudence to tell the Captain that he should write and bring him home.’ Barclay’s eyes were almost starting out of his head. ‘You may well look surprised,’ said Mrs. Somerville, ‘but what will you say when I tell you he has done it? And because a fishwife told him, too! I let him know what an impudent old baggage I thought her, and I got no thanks for my pains, I assure you!’ The lady’s voice had risen with each word. ‘Written to Speid? Impossible! How does he know where to find him?’ ‘Miss Robertson is to send the letter. There will be no wedding yet, as I tell you.’ ‘He cannot get home; at any rate, it is very doubtful,’ said the lawyer, counting on his fingers, ‘for, by the time he reaches here, Fordyce will be a married man. And he will not stop the marriage, if he comes. Miss Raeburn would never dare to give Fordyce the slip now, for all her high-and-mighty ways.’ ‘But the Captain has written to her too, so she will have plenty of time to make up her mind. Look at the letter on the mantelpiece, waiting to be taken to Fullarton. He put it there when he went out.’ Barclay sat staring at the missive and arranging his ideas. He wondered how soon he could escape and send news of what he had heard to Fordyce; he hesitated to hurry away at once, for he had not been to see Mrs. Somerville for a long time, and he knew he was expected to sit with her, as he generally did, for at least an hour. One thing was certain; that letter on the mantelpiece should not reach Cecilia if he could help it. The other had gone beyond recall, but he doubted it getting into Speid’s hands in time to do much harm. Meantime, there was nothing like prompt action.