“Oh, nothing very remarkable; only Des--Miss Roche, you know, came to Melmar first of all as governess to Joanna, and it was while she was there that I found Madame Roche at St. Ouen. When I returned, my mother,” said Cosmo, with a softening in his voice, “brought Desirée to Norlaw, as you must have heard; and it was from our house that she went home.” “And, except this unfortunate sick one, she is the only child?” said Huntley. “I understand it now.” Cosmo gave him a hurried jealous glance, as if to ask what it was he understood, but after that relapsed into uncomfortable silence. They went on for some time so, Cosmo with anger and impatience supposing his elder brother’s mind to be occupied with what he had just told him; and it was with amazement, relief, but almost contempt for Huntley’s extraordinary want of interest in matters so deeply interesting to himself, that Cosmo heard and answered the next question addressed to him. “And Dr. Logan is dead,” said Huntley, with a quiet sorrow in his voice, which trembled too with another emotion. “I wonder where Katie and her bairns are now?” “Not very far off; somewhere near Edinburgh. I think Lasswade. Mr. Cassilis’ mother lives there,” said Cosmo. “Mr. Cassilis! I had forgotten him,” said Huntley, “but he does not live at Lasswade?” “They say he would be glad enough to have Katie Logan in Edinburgh,” said Cosmo, indifferently; “they are cousins--I suppose they are likely to be married;--how do I know? Well, only by some one telling me, Huntley! I did not know you cared.” “Who said I cared?” cried Huntley, with sudden passion. “How should any one know any thing about the matter--eh? I only asked, of course, from curiosity, because we know her so well--used to know her so well. Not you, who were a child, but we two elder ones. My brother Patie--I hear nothing of Patie. Where is _he_ then? You must surely know.” “He is to come to meet you to-morrow,” said Cosmo, who was really grieved for his own carelessness. “Don’t let me vex you, Huntley. I am vexed myself, and troubled; but I never thought of that, and may be quite wrong, as I am often,” he added, with momentary humility, for Cosmo was deeply mortified by the sudden idea that he had been selfishly mindful of his own concerns, and indifferent to those of his brother. For the time, it filled him with self-reproach and penitence. “Never mind; every thing comes right in time,” said Huntley; but this piece of philosophy was said mechanically--the first common-place which occurred to Huntley to vail the perturbation of his thoughts.