by the way she talked of things right and wrong as becoming or not
becoming in a lady of position such as Ginevra would one day find
herself. What lessons she taught her she taught her well. Her
music was old-fashioned, of course; but I have a fancy that perhaps
the older the music one learns first, the better; for the deeper is
thereby the rooting of that which will have the atmosphere of the
age to blossom in. But then to every lover of the truth, a true
thing is dearer because it is old-fashioned, and dearer because it
is new-fashioned: and true music, like true love, like all truth,
laughs at the god Fashion, because it knows him to be but an ape.

Every day, then, except Saturday and Sunday, Miss Machar had for two
years been in the habit of walking or driving to Glashruach, and
there spending the morning hours; but of late her father had been
ailing, and as he was so old that she could not without anxiety
leave him when suffering from the smallest indisposition, she had
found herself compelled either to give up teaching Ginevra, or to
ask Mr. Galbraith to allow her to go, when such occasion should
render it necessary, to the manse. She did the latter; the laird
had consented; and thence arose the duty required of Nicie. Mr.
Machar's health did not improve as the spring advanced, and by the
time Mr. Galbraith left for London, he was confined to his room, and
Ginevra's walk to the manse for lessons had settled into a custom.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE BEAST-BOY.

One morning they found, on reaching the manse, that the minister was
very unwell, and that in consequence Miss Machar could not attend to
Ginevra; they turned, therefore, to walk home again. Now the manse,
upon another root of Glashgar, was nearer than Glashruach to Nicie's
home, and many a time as she went and came, did she lift longing
eyes to the ridge that hid it from her view. This morning, Ginevra
observed that, every other moment, Nicie was looking up the side of
the mountain, as if she saw something unusual upon it--occasionally,
indeed, when the winding of the road turned their backs to it,
stopping and turning round to gaze.

"What is the matter with you, Nicie?" she asked. "What are you
looking at up there?"

"I'm won'erin' what my mother'll be deein'," answered Nicie: "she's
up there."

"Up there!" exclaimed Ginny, and, turning, stared at the mountain
too, expecting to perceive Nicie's mother somewhere upon the face of
it.