“Weel, maybe, no about that,” said the Mistress, slightly mollified; “if that’s what ye want. This Mary Huntley, laddies, I ken very little about her. She was away out of these parts before my time. I never doubted she was light-headed, and liked to be admired and petted. She was Me’mar’s only bairn; maybe that might be some excuse for her--for he was an auld man and fond. But, kind as he was, she ran away from him to marry some lad that naebody kent--and went off out of the country with her ne’er-do-weel man, and has never been heard tell of from that time to this--that’s a’ I ken about her.” This was said so peremptorily and conclusively, setting aside at once any further question, that even these lads, who were not particularly skilled in the heart or its emotions, perceived by instinct, that their mother knew a great deal more about her--more than any inducement in the world could persuade her to tell. “I’ve heard that Me’mar was hurt to the heart,” said the Mistress, “and no much wonder. His bairn that he had thought nothing too good for! and to think of her running off from _him_, a lone auld man, to be married upon a stranger-lad without friends, that naebody kent any good o’, and that turned out just as was to be expected. Oh, aye! it does grand to make into a story--and the like of you, you think it all for love, and a warm heart, and a’ the rest of it; but I think it’s but an ill heart that would desert hame and friends, and an auld man above three-score, for its ain will and pleasure. So Me’mar took it very sore to heart; he would not have her name named to him for years. And the next living creature in this world that he liked best, after his ungrateful daughter, was--laddies, you’ll no’ be surprised--just him that’s gone from us--that everybody likit weel--just Norlaw.” There was a pause after this, the Mistress’s displeasure melting into a sob of her permanent grief; and then the tale was resumed more gently, more slowly, as if she had sinned against the dead by the warmth and almost resentment of her first words. “Me’mar lived to be an auld man,” said the Mistress. “He aye lived on till Patie was about five years auld, and a’ our bairns born. He was very good aye to me; mony’s the present he sent me, when I was a young thing, and was more heeding for bonnie-dies, and took great notice of Huntley, and was kind to the whole house. It was said through a’ the country-side that ye were to be his heirs, and truly so you might have been, but for one thing and anither; no’ that I’m heeding--you’ll be a’ the better for making your way in the world yourselves.” “And the will, mother?” said Huntley, with a little eagerness.