table," said Phillis, "without descending to the kitchen to make
objections."

"If she does, then," said Flint, "she's mair ceevil to ye here than she
was in the last hoos we spent a fortnight, whar she discharged twa maids
for no making the beds as she'd taw'd them, forbye getting the coachman
turned off because the carriage horses held their tails ower high for
her fancy."

"We'll scarce put up with that here," said Phillis, with offended
dignity.

"I dinna ken," said Bob, thoughtfully; "she made her ain nephew carry
a pound o' dips from the chandler's, just, as she said, to scratch his
pride a bit. I 'd ha' ye mind a wee hoo ye please her fancy. You 're a
bonnie mon, but she'll think leetle aboot sending ye packing."

Mr. Phillis did not deign a reply to this speech, but led the way to the
suite destined for her Ladyship's accommodation.

CHAPTER XXXII. HOW THE VISITORS FARED

They come--they come!

--Harold.

Linton passed the greater part of the night in letter-writing.
Combinations were thickening around him, and it demanded all the
watchful activity he could command to prevent himself being overtaken
by events. To a confidential lawyer he submitted a case respecting
Corrigan's title, but so hypothetically and with such reserve that
it betrayed no knowledge of his secret--for he trusted no man. Mary
Leicester's manuscript was his next care, and this he intrusted to a
former acquaintance connected with the French press, entreating his
influence to obtain it the honor of publication, and, instead of
remuneration, asking for some flattering acknowledgment of its merits.
His last occupation was to write his address to the constituency of his
borough, where high-sounding phrases and generous professions took the
place of any awkward avowals of political opinion. This finished, and
wearied by the long-sustained exertion, he threw himself on his bed. His
head, however, was far too deeply engaged to permit of sleep. The plot
was thickening rapidly--events, whose course he hoped to shape at his
leisure, were hurrying on, and although few men could summon to their
aid more of cold calculation in a moment of difficulty, his wonted calm
was now disturbed by one circumstance--this being, as he called it to
himself--Laura's treachery. No men bear breaches of faith so ill as they
who practise them with the world. To most persons the yacht voyage would
have seemed, too, a chance occurrence, where an ac