"One man's meat is another's man's poison," he said to himself. The manse party would certainly not return till four at the earliest, so that he had the comfortable prospect of being up all night, "and none o' the fun," not even a dram to keep him warm: for even a July morning, between two and four, is a chilly moment so far north. The high-road was in a cloud of dust with the carriages that came rolling along from all quarters in the soft twilight; for, though in July the days have shortened a little, the skies were still shining clear at nine o'clock, and the lingering reflections of the sunset scarcely passed away.
Mrs. Stormont and her son were both dressed and ready, standing in the handsome old gallery, where the dancing was to be. She was in her widow's dress, which so many ladies in Scotland never abandon, and which, notwithstanding all the abuse that has been levelled at it, is like a conventual garb, very becoming to a person with any natural claim to admiration. Her rich black silk gown, her perfectly plain, spotless cap with the long white, misty pendants like a veil behind, made Mrs. Stormont, who might have been buxom in gay colours, into a dignified, queen-dowager personage of imposing appearance. She was giving a final lecture to Philip, who was nervous in the prospect, and felt the dignity of the position too much for him.
"You will mind," she said, "my dear, that, when you give us a grand party like this, it is not altogether just for pleasure like those silly bits of dances you go to at the manse."
"You may be sure, mother," said Philip, ironically, "that there is no chance of forgetting that."
"I hope not, Philip. It's a return for favours received, and also it's a claim for your proper position in the county, a claim you must never let down; and Philip, my man, you will mind, will you not, to pay a great deal of attention to Lilias Murray? I consider her the queen of the ball. There will be a great curiosity about her, because she is so young, poor thing, and because nobody knows much about her, and her position is so very peculiar. As often as you can spare from duty to other people you will dance with Lilias, Philip. You have very little occasion, I can tell you, to make a face at that. Better men than you would be glad of the chance."
"That may very well be, and I hope they will take it," said Philip. "I am not going to make a fool of myself, I can tell you, dancing every dance with any girl—if she were Cleopatra!" Philip cried. Why he should have chosen Cleopatra as his type of womanhood nobody could have guessed, and himself least of all.
"That is right, my man, that is just what I desired to hear," cried his mother. "Of course, you must ask all the principal ladies, and mind you begin with the countess, and make no mistake. The quadrilles are for that. If I see you sitting out, as you call it, with Katie Seton or any other cutty, when you should be doing your duty——"
"I wish you would not be violent, mother," Philip said.
His mother had to pause, to gulp down the excitement which such an apprehension raised in her, and which just the moment before the arrival of the guests was doubly inappropriate, before she spoke. She had not time to be angry. She laid her hand on his arm, just as the bell clanged into the echoes announcing the first arrival.
"My dear boy," she said, almost with tears in her eyes, "mind that the Murkley lands march with Stormont, and, though they're not very rich, it's a grand old family, and two littles would make a muckle in such a case."