"Aye, there was one for your grandfather. Better take yours to your room. When you have read it, and changed your dress, tea will be waiting."
"Is grandfather at home?"
"He is; so do not stay up stairs too long."
She nodded a bright assent, and holding the letter in her hand went swiftly up the stairway. In half an hour she came back to the parlor, but her face was then troubled and even angry, and her eyes full of tears. She held out the letter to her grandmother, and asked, "Do you know what father has written to me about?"
"I have a very sure suspect," answered Madame; but she went on setting out her china, and did not lift her face, or offer any further opinion.
"It is a shame! I ought to have been told before."
Then the Elder rose, and came toward the tea-table, "Maria," he said, "you will not use such like words, whatever your father pleases to do. I hae nae doubt at all that he has chosen a good wife for himsel' and a good mother for you. You had a long letter; what does he say anent her?"
"She is a nonesuch, of course. No woman in England, or out of England like her."
"I expect as much; my son Alexander has my ain perception concerning women-folk. He would hae the best, or nane at a'. Wha was she? He said in my letter you would gie us a' the particulars."
"He has filled six pages about her. She was Miss Elizabeth Spencer. Father says her family is one of the best and oldest in England. The Reverend Oswald Spencer married them; he is rector of St. Margaret's Church in London, and a distant relative."