But he would have none of them. It was his hour of triumph, and he closed his doors against all who came to claim kinship with him.
Very soon it was made manifest that Raymond Balfour was in the way to distinguish himself as his predecessor and kinsman, Crease, had done.
Corbie Hall was turned into a place of revel and riot, and strange, even startling, were the stories that came into currency by the vulgar lips of common rumour. Those whose privilege it was to be the guests at Corbie Hall were not people who, according to Edinburgh ethics, were entitled to be classed amongst the elect, or who were numbered within the pale of so-called ‘respectable society.’ They belonged rather to that outer fringe which was considered to be an ungodly Bohemia.
It was true that in their ranks were certain young men who were supposed to be seriously pursuing their studies in order that they might ultimately qualify for the Church, the Law, and Medicine.
But their chief sin, perhaps, was youth, which, as the years advanced, would be overcome. Nevertheless, the frowns of the ‘superior people’ were directed to them, and they were solemnly warned that Corbie Hall was on the highroad to perdition; that, as it had always been an unlucky place, it would continue to be unlucky; in short, that it was accursed.
Raymond Balfour’s guests were not all of the sterner sex. Ladies occasionally graced his board. One of them was a Maggie Stiven, who rejoiced in being referred to as the best hated woman in Edinburgh.
She was the daughter of a baker carrying on business in the High Street; but Maggie had quarrelled with her parents, and taken herself off to her only brother, who kept a public-house in College Street.
He, too, had quarrelled with his people, so that he not only welcomed Maggie, but was glad of her assistance in his business.
Maggie bore the proud reputation of being the prettiest young woman in Edinburgh. Her age was about three-and-twenty, and it was said she had turned the heads of half the young fellows in the town. She was generally regarded as a heartless coquette, a silly flirt, who had brains for nothing else but dress.
She possessed a will of her own, however, and seemed determined to shape her course and order her life exactly as it pleased her to do.