king of the other night. They say he has come
into a good property, but you may judge for yourself whether he
seems fit to manage it!"

Ginevra withdrew her hand from his arm.

"Good God, Jenny!" exclaimed the laird, "you do not mean to tell me
you have ever spoken to a young man like that?"

"I know him very well, papa," replied Ginevra, collectedly.

"You are incomprehensible, Jenny! If you know him, why do I not
know him? If you had not known good reason to be ashamed of him,
you would, one time or other, have mentioned his name in my
hearing.--I ask you, and I demand an answer,"--here he stopped, and
fronted her--"why have you concealed from me your acquaintance with
this--this--person?"

"Because I thought it might be painful to you, papa," she answered,
looking in his face.

"Painful to me! Why should it be painful to me--except indeed that
it breaks my heart as often as I see you betray your invincible
fondness for low company?"

"Do you desire me to tell you, papa, why I thought it might be
painful to you to make that young man's acquaintance?"

"I do distinctly. I command you."

"Then I will: that young man, Sir Gilbert Galbraith,--"

"Nonsense, girl! there is no such Galbraith. It is the merest of
scoffs."

Ginevra did not care to argue with him this point. In truth she
knew little more about it than he.

"Many years ago," she recommenced, "when I was a child,--Excuse me,
Mr. Duff, but it is quite time I told my father what has been
weighing upon my mind for so many years."

"Sir Gilbert!" muttered her father contemptuously.

"One day," again she began, "Mr. Fergus Duff brought a ragged little
boy to Glashruach--the most innocent and loving of creatures, who
had committed no crime but that of doing good in secret. I saw Mr.
Duff box his ears on the bridge; and you, papa, gave him over to
that wretch, Angus Mac Pholp, to whip him--so at least Angus told
me, after he had whipped him till he dropped senseless. I can
hardly keep from screaming now when I think of it."

"All this, Jenny, is nothing less than cursed folly. Do you mean to
tell me you have all these years been cherishing resentment against
your own father, for the sake of a little thieving rascal, whom it
was a good deed to fright from the error of his ways? I have no
doubt Angus gave him merely what he deserved."

"You must remember, Miss Galbraith, we did not know he was dumb,"
said Fergus, humbly.

"If you had