the family. She was the wife (and incidentally, it was said, the
making) of Ramornie of Pettigrew, a laird of good estate in the kingdom
of Fife. Her business capacity was almost equal to her brother's. She
had extracted Pettigrew from the hands of the friends who had been
"doing him no good," paid off the bonds on his property, presented him
with three creditable children, including the necessary heir male, and
would undoubtedly have put him into Parliament could she have ensured
her own presence always at his side. But as he would have to deliver his
speeches himself, even if she composed them, she was content with making
him a deputy-lieutenant. In person this lady suggested the junior
partner as well as in mind. She, however, was blonde, and though her
cheeks took after his, her upper lip was not quite so substantial.

Gertrude, the second sister, was now Mrs. Donaldson, wife of Hector
Donaldson, advocate. At the time, it was considered a middling sort of
marriage; since his cross-examination of the co-respondent in Macpherson
_v._ Macpherson and Tattenham-Welby, it had been considered a creditable
marriage; and if his practice continued its present rate of increase,
it would soon become a good marriage. In any case, she had justified the
Walkingshaw reputation for investing money or person soundly and
shrewdly. She resembled her father, and he had always been considered a
fine-looking man. Both Andrew and Maggie thought she got too many of her
clothes in London. They made her a little conspicuous, and they hoped
she could afford it. Still, one heard very encouraging things said of
Hector nowadays.

Mr. Walkingshaw was evidently weakening. He lay back with his eyes
closed till they were all assembled, and then Andrew, who seemed to have
the entire management of the melancholy ceremony, stepped up to the
bedside and, with lowered eyelids, murmured--

"They are all here now."

Mr. Walkingshaw opened his eyes.

"I'm likely to be taken," he said in a weak voice. "Andrew'll have told
you."

He paused: and one little stifled sob was heard, too gentle to catch his
ear. It came from Jean.

"I'd just like to say a word to you all before I go. I've tried my best
to do my duty by my children and my sister and my kinsfolk."

At this specific inclusion of herself the sympathetic widow could keep
silence no longer.

"Indeed you have, Heriot!" she murmured.

"Hush!" said Andrew sternly.

"Let them say what they feel