rse I
am mercenary, and I don't even pretend to old Tringle
that I am not so. I feel a little tired of this special
effort;--but if I were to abandon it I should simply have
to begin again elsewhere. I have sighted my stag, and
I must go on following him, trying to get on the right
side of the wind till I bring him down. It is not nice,
but it is to me manifestly my duty,--and I shall do it.
Therefore, do not let there be any blowing up. I hate to
be scolded.

Yours always affectionately,

F. H.

Gertrude, when he was gone, did not take the matter quite so quietly
as he did, feeling that, as she had made up her mind, and as all
her world would know that she had made up her mind, it behoved her
to carry her purpose to its desired end. A girl who is known to
be engaged, but whose engagement is not allowed, is always in a
disagreeable plight.

"Mamma," she said, "I think that papa is not treating me well."

"My dear, your papa has always had his own way."

"That is all very well;--but why am I to be worse used than Augusta?
It turns out now that Mr. Traffick has not got a shilling of his
own."

"Your papa likes his being in Parliament."

"All the girls can't marry Members of Parliament."

"And he likes his being the son of Lord Boardotrade."

"Lord Boardotrade! I call that very mean. Mr. Houston is a gentleman,
and the Buncombe property has been for ever so many hundreds of years
in the family. I think more of Frank as to birth and all that than I
do of Lord Boardotrade and his mushroom peerage. Can't you tell papa
that I mean to marry Mr. Houston at last, and that he is making very
little of me to let me be talked about as I shall be?"

"I don't think I can, Gertrude."

"Then I shall. What would he say if I were to run away with Frank?"

"I don't think Frank Houston would do that."

"He would if I told him,--in a moment." There Miss Tringle was
probably in error. "And unless papa consents I shall tell him. I am
not going to be made miserable for ever."

This was at Glenbogie, in Inverness-shire, on the southeastern side
of Loch Ness, where Sir Thomas Tringle possessed a beautiful mansion,
with a deer-forest, and a waterfall of his own, and any amount of
moors which the minds of sportmen could conceive. Nothing in Scotland
could be more excellent, unless there might be some truth in the
remarks of those who said that the grouse were scarce, and that the
deer were alm