Still the truth remained that Fan was not intellectual—like Catherine Hilliard at the Meadows, or Lucy Houghton, the vicar’s eldest daughter, who might have made some pretence to enact ‘sweet girl-graduates.’ None could be better aware of what she lacked in this respect than Fan, who had even an inordinate value for the attainments in which she failed—who felt only the more called upon, with a half-pathetic meekness and humility in the middle of her pride and high spirit, to support Oliver’s dignity by the sedulous exercise of the faculties Providence had given her. She believed she was ladylike, she knew she was sensible, she felt none could be more deeply attached to Oliver and his interests. She was prepared to prove an excellent mistress of his establishment and manager of his household expenses, so long as he needed her. What was still stronger evidence of her devotion, she was prepared to vacate the post she craved, for the consummation of her wishes, on a suitable marriage on Oliver’s part. Of course Oliver ought to marry and marry well, which would be a help to his social position. Then her services would no longer be required, and—well, she might possibly marry in her turn. Oliver was coming home to Friarton Mill, but there was little likelihood that he would stay there. He might already have formed his plans—whatever they were Fan was ready to give in her adherence to them. She had no desire to remain at Friarton Mill; she had, on the contrary, a great inclination to get away from all that hampered her and would hamper her brother. She was a woman of strong and faithful family affections, but she was as nearly as possible without local attachments. She had a feeling for beauty—rather in form than in colour, but she was not possessed with the admiration which Friarton Mill frequently called forth. She rather resented its ardent expression to her, as some Scotchmen resent the enthusiasm many foreigners entertain for them in the light of the countrymen of Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott. She did not at all approve of the shape the furor took; and she kept herself out of the way of those visitors from Copley Grange, who, in spite of the hints of the Squire, were too stolid in their superior rank to understand that Fan was not the typical miller’s daughter and were fain to patronise her under an altogether erroneous impression. Such gratuitous patronage would fill Fan with an intensity of indignation and affront so far beyond what the offence deserved, that the wrath became ludicrous in its anti-climax. It was the new order of things, it was the coming dignity, it was Oliver the chief bestower of the dignity, that were all affably patronised in the person of Fan, and Fan had to be angry for the whole.