scientific
works, and some volumes on philosophy of a materialistic character. With
the exception of Robert Burns, not one poet was represented.

The owner of the house sat before a big writing-table, which was covered
with papers. His face was that of a hard thinker; the head was fine in
form, the forehead broad and high; the features regular, almost severe.
The severity was softened by a genial expression. Mrs. Fullerton, though
also obviously above the average of humanity, shewed signs of incomplete
development. The shape of the head and brow promised many faculties that
the expression of the face did not encourage one to expect. She was
finely built; and carried herself with dignity. When her daughters
accompanied her on a round of calls in the neighbourhood, they expressed
a certain quality in her appearance, in rough and ready terms: "Other
married women always look such fools beside mother!"

And they did.

Mrs. Fullerton wore her fine black hair brushed neatly over her
forehead; her eyes were large, and keen in expression. The mouth shewed
determination. It was easy to see that this lady had unbounded belief in
her husband's wisdom, except in social matters, for which he cared
nothing. On that point she had to keep her ambitions to herself. In
questions of philosophy, she had imbibed his tenets unmodified, and
though she went regularly every Sunday to the close little Scottish
church at Ballochcoil, she had no more respect than her husband had,
for the doctrines that were preached there.

"No doubt it is all superstition and nonsense," she used to say, "but in
this country, one can't afford to fly in the face of prejudice. It would
seriously tell against the girls."

"Well, have your own way," Mr. Fullerton would reply, "but I can't see
the use of always bothering about what people will think. What more do
the girls want than a good home and plenty of lawn-tennis? They'll get
husbands fast enough, without your asphyxiating yourself every Sunday
in their interests."

In her youth, Mrs. Fullerton had shewn signs of qualities which had
since been submerged. Her husband had influenced her development
profoundly, to the apparent stifling of every native tendency. A few
volumes of poetry, and other works of imagination, bore testimony to
the lost sides of her nature.

Mr. Fullerton thought imagination "all nonsense," and his wife had no
doubt he was right, though there was something to be said for one or two