ereupon he
patted her on the head, gently and smilingly, for he was a fond husband
still, and she was such a sweet plaything for an idle hour.

A plaything! Would that all women considered the full meaning of the
term--a thing sighed for, snatched, caressed, wearied of, neglected,
scorned! And would also, that every wife knew that her fate depends less
on what her husband makes of her, than what she makes herself to him!

"Now, Angus, begin--I am all attention."

He looked one moment doubtfully at Olive, who sat in her little chair at
the farther end of the room, quiet, silent, and demure. She had beside
her some purple plums, which she did not attempt to eat, but was playing
with them, arranging them with green leaves in a thousand graceful ways,
and smiling to herself when the afternoon sunlight, creeping through the
dim window, rested upon them and made their rich colour richer still.

"Shall we send Olive away?" said the mother.

"No, let her stay--she is of no importance."

The parents both looked at the child's pale, spiritual face, felt the
reproach it gave, and sighed. Perhaps both father and mother would
have loved her, but for a sense of shame in the latter, and the painful
memory of deceit in the former.

"Sybilla," suddenly resumed Captain Rothesay, "what I have to say is
merely, how soon you can arrange to leave Stirling?"

"Leave Stirling?"

"Yes; I have taken a house."

"Indeed! and you never told me anything about it," said Sybilla, with a
vexed look.

"Now, my little wife, do not be foolish; you never wish to hear about
business, and I have taken you at your word; you cannot object to that?"

But she could, and she had a thousand half-pouting, half-jesting
complaints to urge. She put them forth rather incoherently; in fact,
she talked for five minutes without giving her husband opportunity for a
single word. Yet she loved him dearly, and had in her heart no objection
to being saved the trouble of thinking beforehand; only she thought it
right to stand up a little for her conjugal prerogative.

He listened in perfect silence. When she had done, he merely said, "Very
well, Sybilla; and we will leave Stirling this day month. I have decided
to live in England. Oldchurch is a very convenient town, and I have no
doubt you will find Merivale Hall an agreeable residence."

"Merivale Hall. Are we really going to live in a Hall?" cried Sybilla,
clapping her hands with childish glee. But immediatel