sport--whom they all, without any idea of
selfishness or injustice, associated with the Laird, as one member of
the family is occasionally chosen to bear the burdens of the
others,--Joanna was papa's right hand, papa's secretary, steward,
housekeeper, nurse. It had always been so; Joanna had been set aside
to the office, and no one thought of depriving her of it, any more
than she dreamt of resigning it.

Joanna was the child born immediately after the duel, and on the waxen
brow of the baby was a crimson stain, slight but significant, which two
fingers might have covered. Was this the token of retribution--the
threat of vengeance? The gossips' tongues wagged busily. Some said it
was Cain's brand, "the iniquity of the fathers visited on the children;"
others alleged more charitably that it ought to prove a sign in the
Laird's favour, to have the symbol of his guilt transferred to a
scape-goat--the brow of a child. However, the gossips need not have
hidden the child's face so sedulously for the first few days from the
mother. Mrs. Crawfurd took the matter quite peaceably, and was relieved
that no worse misfortune had befallen her or her offspring. "Poor little
dear!" it was sad that she should carry such a trace; but she daresayed
she would outgrow it, or she must wear flat curls--it was a pity that
they had gone quite out of fashion. It was the father who kissed the
mark passionately, and carried the child oftenest in his arms, and let
her sit longest on his knee; and so she became his darling, and learnt
all his ways, and could suit herself to his fancies, and soothe his
pains, from very youthful years. The public recognised this peculiar
property of her father in Joanna, and identified her with the sorrowful
period of his history. She was pointed out in connexion with the
story--the tragedy of the county,--and she knew instinctively that there
would be a whispered reference to her whenever it was told in society.

The Crawfurds had a cousin visiting them--an English cousin, Polly
Musgrave--from the luxury and comparative gaiety of her rich,
childless aunt's house in York. Polly was a well-endowed orphan, had
no near family ties, and had been educated in the worldly wisdom and
epicurean philosophy of a fashionable girls' school. She had come to
spend a few weeks, and get acquainted with her Scotch country cousins.
Polly had not found her heart, but it was to the credit of her sense
and good-nature that she made the ve