of the laird's
last remark, "although I believe she has no dowry, and there are
reasons besides why the connection should not be desirable, I do not
know a lady I should prefer for a wife to my ward."

The minister's plain speaking was not without effect upon the laird.
It made him uncomfortable. It is only when the conscience is wide
awake and regnant that it can be appealed to without giving a cry
for response. Again he sat silent a while. Then gathering all the
pomp and stiffness at his command,

"Oblige me by informing my daughter," he said, "that I request her,
for the sake of avoiding scandal, to return to her father's house
until she is of age."

"And in the mean time you undertake--"

"I undertake nothing," shouted the laird, in his feeble, woolly, yet
harsh voice.

"Then I refuse to carry your message. I will be no bearer of that
from which, as soon as delivered, I should dissuade."

"Allow me to ask, are you a minister of the gospel, and stir up a
child against her own father?"

"I am not here to bandy words with you, Mr. Galbraith. It is
nothing to me what you think of me. If you will engage not to urge
your choice upon Miss Galbraith, I think it probable she will at
once return to you. If not--"

"I will not force her inclinations," said the laird. "She knows my
wish, and she ought to know the duty of a daughter."

"I will tell her what you say," answered the minister, and took his
departure.

When Gibbie heard, he was not at all satisfied with Mr. Sclater's
interference to such result. He wished to marry Ginevra at once, in
order to take her from under the tyranny of her father. But he was
readily convinced it would be better, now things were understood,
that she should go back to him, and try once more to gain him. The
same day she did go back, and Gibbie took up his quarters at the
minister's.

Ginevra soon found that her father had not yielded the idea of
having his own way with her, but her spirits and courage were now so
good, that she was able not only to endure with less suffering, but
to carry herself quite differently. Much less afraid of him, she
was the more watchful to minister to his wants, dared a loving
liberty now and then in spite of his coldness, took his objurgations
with something of the gaiety of one who did not or would not believe
he meant them, and when he abused Gibbie, did not answer a word,
knowing events alone could set him right in his idea of him.
R