conscience, the struggle between them often came. She sobbed and wrung her hands, exclaiming,

"I wish I had never known them! I wish they had never come! I know I shall be miserable. Florh, Florh, my warning dream will come true! Oh, Godfrey Marchmoram, what shall I do ?"

One had stood upon the heights above the little loch that day, who had sat him down to watch the deer, when his keen eye fell upon the two figures beneath: he raised his glass, and recognized Auber and Esmé. As they moved homewards he turned also, and very soon after their arrival Marchmoram went into his tent and laid aside his deer-stalking glass.

We must now revert to Florh Mackenzie, Esmé's fostermother, who had latterly kept silent and aloof. There were weighty matters on Florh's mind: she had not spoken to Esmé again on the subject of Jeanie Cameron, and the Italian valet's surmise of her guilt with Mr. Marchmoram, since that evening at Glenbenrough; yet not the less, but rather the more, strongly did her own views concentrate on that, and on another subject also partly connected with it. Florh had ever possessed great influence over Esmé, not only as being her foster-mother (a very strong tie in the Highlands), but from the knowledge she had of Esmé's disposition, and the native tact with which her shrewdness helped her to use it. Next to her son Ewen, Florh loved her foster children, Esmé Mac Neil and Normal Mac Alastair, best of all on earth; and the union of these two had ever been her chiefest project: she regarded their mutual happiness, and the advancement of her son, as dependent on its accomplishment. Ewen's fortunes hung

upon his young master's; for he never would have sought any

other service; and with Esmé as his mistress, Florh knew he would be safe for life in the indulgence of a foster brother and sister: Florh's foresight extended even to his old age, and she fancied him installed in the snuggest shealing in Arduashien. She had ever regarded Esmé's nature as an impetuous torrent full of breaks and windings, but she felt sure that all she had to do was to follow and watch its devious course, and that, as its force exhausted itself, the stream would flow calmly at last; so only by occasional words she let Esmé see that fate quite intended she should be the wife of Normal and Lady of Arduashien, and that Ewen should devote the latter days of his life to her and Normal's service. Now, however, unforeseen clouds hung darkening over the sunny landscape of her visionary prospect; and how to avert the coming storm and ruin, required all that mental strength and tact which intuitively this Highland peasant-woman felt she possessed; to Florh Mackenzie pondering nightly on her heather bed, her mental plans, of strategy and careful prevision connected with these few human beings, appeared a scheme involving as much boldness, risk, and difficulty as ever taxed the mind of a statesman. That early dream of Esmé's which she had read so strangely true, was it not immediately afterwards that the man of that name had alighted in Glenbenrough? The intimacy of Godfrey Marchmoram with Esmé had progressed; and, even though all outward appearances had contradicted it, Florh would have felt that a mutual interest must ensue betwixt him and Esmé: some dangerous crisis must arise sooner or later; for her predictions never failed. Even now she saw the coming danger; for the dream was in process of fulfilment. There was Norah, whose calm soft eye drooped too frequently beneath the bright gaze of English Harold, and followed too steadfastly his every graceful movement and gesture; however, all was sunshine here, for truth and honour were read distinctly in Harold's frank and noble countenance: even Florh's eye fell not coldly on him. But Esmé, dear Esmé! A pang of jealousy, for the sake of her favourite bairn, shot through Florh's brain. Should she be swept away? No! not while her foster-mother had strength to stretch forth her helping arm, and guide her to safe and friendly protection. Hatred of Marchmoram was deeply rooting in Florh's lowly but resolute heart. Could she avert his influence from her foster-children? for if he won Esmé's heart did he not also stab Normal's ? Were she able finally to regain Jeanie-the bride long

promised, now blighted-for her best-beloved son Ewen, she could have nearly forgiven all, in the triumph of her ultimate success; but were she defeated, and all these evils to come upon her, then the end of her life would be blackness.

Normal had not taken Ewen with him to the Dual Ghu: the evening before the party left Glenbenrough, Norah had asked him not to do so, as it was evident he was disagreeable to Mr. Marchmoram; so Normal had assented. Ewen was aware of the cause of his being left behind, and his mother learnt it also: with Ewen it rankled deeply; yet he occupied himself by taking a little journey on Mr. Marchmoram's behalf, which he had arranged to do some time before. Florh was well aware that to succeed in her plans she must be subdued and patient, so she betrayed no feeling which might mar any influence or interest at Glenbenrough; and when Marchmoram crossed her path at Dual Ghu, she dropped a courtesy and gave him honied smiles. To Ishbel she occasionally confided a few gibes against the Englishmen of Dreumah; but when Ishbel tried to change Florh's opinions she generally found herself worsted by some unconquerable Scottish prejudice.

Florh was a very pleasant companion for the girls; she sat on the river banks, and sang wild Gaelic songs to them, or told tales of bygone Highland days and families; she wandered up the hills, and taught them the properties of different herbs; of the two wild orchids, one of which makes a potent lovephiltre, and the other cures the stricken flocks of the shepherd; and of the bog-myrtle, famed as a spell against the Brownie, and for use at the rites of Hallowe'en. The girls turned the bog-myrtle to epicurean purpose, and taught the Dreumah men that a few sprigs of it dipped in claret and water gives an aromatic flavour never equalled by borage. Indeed Florh's companionship formed one of the most piquant enjoyments of this out-door life. The truest pleasure to her was the daily proximity of her beloved Normal: it was but seldom that she could see him so continuously as now, and her chief moments of mental relaxation were when, from her evening seat by the shealing door, she proudly compared his manly form and bearing with those of the Englishmen (for Normal always wore the Highland dress), or triumphantly saw his gillies returning laden with better spoil than theirs.

On the day that Esmé had gone to the water-lily loch, two dishes of fish, caught by Norah and Ishbel, graced the dinner table; they consisted of trout, and a large pike roasted, the

latter having been a capture of Norah's. The gentlemen, as in gallantry bound, praised the sport of the young ladies, and Harold in particular, after much discussion on fishing in general, hinted at last that he would prefer it to shooting, if allowed his choice. Esmé offered her rod with alacrity, and it was settled that he should try and catch a pike the next morning, in company with Norah and Ishbel. This little arrangement suddenly extended into a much more comprehensive one, and some of those present thought Harold's spirits consequently lowered again, as he looked anything but gregariously inclined; however, he brightened up a few moments afterwards, whispering to Norah, "This must not count for our fishing day; it has only been postponed." Glenbenrough proposed that the whole party should fish up the river as far as the dwelling of Mr. Macrae, the tenant of the Dual Ghu; and that there they should lunch, and either ride or walk back in the evening. Accordingly, with the laird's usual promptness, a gillie was at once despatched to the old vassal, bidding him prepare to give them welcome on the morrow. The river was navigable for a coble up to within a hundred yards of Macrae's house; it ran on a level through the hills up to that point, and then the waters deepened, and in broken rapids, amidst sunken and sharpedged rocks, rushed on to two broad, deep falls, the roaring of which was a nightly lullaby to the people in the house, and there was a scrambling path the whole way along the bank. Next morning the whole party started from the shealing with fishing gear and tackle; the coble was for the use of those who fished with the otter ;* and rude rods of birch, with pieces of scarlet fringe, cut from Florh's shawl, tied on to the line, were in readiness for those who wished to tempt the pike. Norah, Ishbel, and Harold made rather a noisy party in the boat, and the "otter scarce needed any eccentric twitch, for the jerking and meandering course of the coble, as they pulled contrary strokes, and shifted from side to side, made the "otter' dance more vigorously than needful. Esmé, Normal, and Marchmoram fished for pike over the cdge of the bank; the latter would have condescended to no other kind of fishing, but the slaying of this "tyrant of the flood gave him some excitement it gratified him to strike an almost savage blow upon the cruel, open mouth of the fish as it grasped on the

* A wooden board, leaded so as to float perpendicularly, and adjusted by laniards on the principles of the kite; the leading string furnished with swivels and tippets, to which the hooks are attached.

shore. They were successful, and caught four large pike. When about half a mile from the rapids, Glenbenrough called to the boat party to land, as the path to the house diverged a little from the river's course. They had caught a few trout, despite the disadvantageous handling of the "otter," and all the rods, the slain pike, etc., were put into the coble. Harold volunteered to row it further up, to where a small wooden pier ran out; and, fastening it there, a bearer from the house could run down for the fish, which were to figure at the luncheon,

As they all turned up the bank, Glenbenrough called to Harold to row steadily when he came near the pier, for if he shot a very few yards past it the boat might run into the rapids. Norah walked last of the party, and it so happened that she stopped twice to fasten the ribbon of her shoe; both times she met the straining gaze of Harold, as he pulled slowly out of sight, and both times a deeper glow of pleasure tinged her cheek. He looked very handsome in his loose shepherd tartan dress; it suited his tall, athletic figure, and the sun-bright English complexion, with masses of chestnut hair clustering on a brow that showed intellect as well as birth,-a clear, high patrician brow, with truthful eyes of pure blue: never did face attest more vividly nobleness of nature. The path led down to a small old house, built of dark slatestone, with curious little windows like loop-holes, from which Prince Charlie had often looked out upon the huge bleak guardian hills encasing him in on every side; for he had more than once found shelter there in his wanderings. Upon the rocky background stood large fanks for the sheep and cattle, low stone walls, forming a square, and divided into compartments, in which the division and wool-clipping of the sheep take place in summer, and the cattle seek shelter in the storms of winter. A few green birches were scattered over the bank in front, sloping down to the river, which went seething and boiling past in quite a different mood from that it showed higher up. Intervening banks concealed the mighty fall, from whence the water rushed on in dark turbulent haste; but the noise of it sufficiently told its power and depth. Old Macrae surrounded by a staff of shepherds, came down to meet them, bearing a huge green bottle filled with whisky, and a glass of antediluvian shape; trembling with nervous delight, he welcomed his beloved laird and his family, by pouring out a bumper with upraised hand, and giving the old Gaelic toast, which conferred in the eyes of the Highlanders, only legitimate honour. "Mac Neil agus an Righ!"