“Oh, mamma, so vexatious!” cried Patricia, in a voice which could not by any possibility reach the ears of Aunt Jean; “papa has been doing something to Mr. Livingstone, of Norlaw--he’s dead, and there’s been something done that looks cruel--oh! I’m sure I don’t know exactly what it is--Joanna knows;--but only think how the people will look at us to-morrow night.” “Perhaps I may not be able to go, my dear,” said Mrs. Huntley, with a sigh. “Not able to go? after promising so long! mamma, that is cruel!” cried Patricia; “but nobody cares for me. I never have what other people have. I am to be shut up in this miserable prison of a place all my life--not able to go! Oh, mamma! but you’ll all be sorry when there’s no poor Patricia to be shut up and made a victim of any more!” “I do think you’re very unreasonable, Patricia,” said Mrs. Huntley; “I’ve gone out three times this last month to please you--a great sacrifice for a person in my weak health--and Dr. Tait does not think late hours proper for you; besides, if there is any thing disagreeable about your papa, as you say, I really don’t think my nerves could stand it.” “Fat’s all this about?” said Aunt Jean; “you ken just as well as me that I canna hear a word of fat you’re saying. Joan, my bairn, come you here--fa’s dun wrang? Fat’s happened? Eh! there’s Patricia ta’en to the tears--fat’s wrang?” Nothing loth, Joanna rushed forward, and shouted her story into the old woman’s ears. It was received with great curiosity and interest by the new hearers. Aunt Jean lifted up her hands in dismay, shook her head, made all the telegraphic signs with eye and mouth which are common to people restrained from full communication with their companions. Mrs. Huntley, too, was roused. “It’s like a scene in a novel,” she said, with some animation; “but after all, Mr. Livingstone should not have been in debt to papa, you know. What with Oswald abroad, and you two at home, you can tell Aunt Jean we need all our money, Joanna; and if people die when they’re in debt, what can they expect? I don’t see, really, in my poor health, that I’m called upon to interfere.” “Fat’s this I hear?” said Aunt Jean; “Livingstone o’ Norlaw? Na, Jeanie, if that’s true, your good man’s been sair left to himself. Eh, woman! Livingstone! fat’s a’body’s thinking of? I would sooner have cut off my little finger if I had been Me’mar; that man!” “Oh, what about him, Aunt Jean?” cried Joanna. “Ay, bairn, but I maun think,” said the old woman. “I’m no’ so clear it’s my duty to tell you. Your father kens his ain concerns, and so does your mother, in a measure, and so do I myself. I canna tell onybody mair than my ain secret, Joan. Hout ay! I’ll tell you, fun I was a young lass, fat happened to me.” “I want to hear about Norlaw,” cried Joanna, screaming into the old woman’s ear.