ssie, Fergus, if you speak and look
so stern," replied his aunt in an alarmed voice. "You see you are only
a lad yourself, and may be Lilian wouldn't care to have you so ready
with your havers with a pretty young thing like Mrs. St. Clair. Better
leave her to Jean and me." But she might as well have spoken to the
wind, for the young minister had made up his mind that it was his duty
to shepherd this stray lamb.

He had already spoken out his mind to Lilian; the poor little girl had
been much overpowered by the sight of Fay in the kirk. Fay's beauty
had made a deep impression on her; and the knowledge that her
betrothed would be in daily contact with this dainty piece of
loveliness was decidedly unpalatable to her feelings.

Lilian was quite aware of her own charms; her dimples and sweet
youthful bloom had already brought many a lover to her feet; but she
was a sensible little creature in spite of her vanity, and she knew
that she could not compare with Mrs. St. Clair any more than painted
delf could compare with porcelain.

So first she pouted and gave herself airs when her lover came to the
farm, and then, when he coaxed her, she burst into a flood of honest
tears, and bewailed herself because Fergus was to live up at the
Manse, when no one knew who Mrs. St. Clair might be, for all she had a
face like a picture.

"Oh, oh, I see now," returned Fergus, with just the gleam of a smile
lighting up his rugged face; "it is just a piece of jealousy, Lilian,
because Mrs. St. Clair--to whom I have never spoken, mind you--happens
to be a prettier girl than yourself"--which was wicked and impolitic
of Fergus.

"But you will be speaking to her, and at every meal-time too, and all
the evenings when Mrs. Duncan is up in the minister's room; and it is
not what I call fair, Fergus, with me down at the farm, and you always
up in arms if I venture to give more than a good-day to the lads."

"Well, you see you belong to me, Lilian, and I am a careful man and
look after my belongings. Mrs. St. Clair is one of my flock now, and I
must take her in hand. Whisht, lassie," as Lilian averted her face and
would not look at him, "have you such a mean opinion of me that you
think I am not to be trusted to look at any woman but yourself, and I
a minister with a cure of souls; that is a poor look-out for our
wedded life." And here Fergus whispered something that brought the
dimples into play again; and after a little more judicious coaxing,
L