'Your woman Briggs tells me, Lady Caroline, that that Tirpie girl, old Tibbie's daughter, has come home again. When Briggs came over from Inverlyon last night, there was some one else in the stage-coach, all wrapped up, who sat and cried the whole way. She got out at Tibbie's cottage. This morning Briggs went over about some sewing, and there was the girl looking so thin and pale. Briggs says it was distressing to see her, she looked so weak and heart-broken. Perhaps you may remember that she was ailing and went away to some friend at a distance. Now she is home again. I fear she is not a good girl, at least not all her mother would wish her to be. But perhaps you could let her have some fine sewing, Briggs says any other kind of work would be too much for her.'
The boisterous unmannerliness of Captain John's remark had caused a sensation, but it was as nothing to the dismay which followed Miss Finlayson's perfectly quiet, evenly uttered, and perhaps charitably intended words. She seemed virtuously unconscious of all evil, but by some occult association of ideas, her statement fell into the minds of her auditors as corroborative and supplementary to what had been meant but as a little verbal horse play by the Captain.
Lady Caroline looked deeply shocked, Kenneth flushed scarlet with indignation, and as his glance met John's, the latter returned it with a twinkle of mingled amusement and admiration. He passed his napkin across his mouth to hide an uncontrollable grin, and muttered to Kenneth his neighbour--'the scandalous jade!'
William the footman appeared to quiver as if struck. His eye dilated and his jaw fell. The dish he carried would have fallen, and there would have been a catastrophe, had not the butler trodden on his toe and recalled him with a reproving glance to that sublime impassibility which alone is worthy of a footman on duty.
The General alone remained tranquil. He was eating his dinner. He heard something pass between the ladies about one of the cottagers, but his thoughts were running on other things, whether, for instance, another clove of garlic, or perhaps an olive would not give a rounder fulness to the sauce on his plate.
There was little or no conversation afterwards. Every one seemed distraught, and following out a train of new and unpleasant ideas, except Miss Finlayson, who seemed securely content, a participant with the General in his digestive tranquility. Perhaps she had fired her shot and it had sped home to its mark, or perhaps there was no mark and no intention when the winged words flew forth. We read that of old 'a certain man drew a bow at a venture.' The arrow sped, and entering the unguarded joint of a harness, it laid a warrior low. It may be that Julia's arrow was thus unwittingly shot, but Captain John did not think so.
CHAPTER VI.
[SOPHIA].
Three weeks later, Mrs. Sangster entertained friends. Dinner at Auchlippie took place earlier than at Inchbracken--finished the afternoon rather than began the evening. At its conclusion the master withdrew, to make the round of his stables and cattle sheds, and see that the stock was fitly provided and bestowed for the night. His son, Mr. Peter Sangster of Manchester and his friend Mr. Wallowby, likewise of Manchester, and now in Scotland for a short vacation, also withdrew and lighting their cigars sauntered down the avenue. Only the Rev. Mr. Dowlas was left within doors in company with Mrs. Sangster and her daughter. The latter sought her embroidery frame in a distant bay window, and soon became engrossed in counting the squares of her Berlin wool work.
The elder lady was left alone to converse with her ghostly friend, and the pair selecting the two easiest and roomiest chairs they could find, drew a long breath and settled themselves for along and confidential 'crack.' There was much to tell and to hear about the fortunes of the 'cause' throughout the several parishes of their presbytery, in which Mr. Dowlas was a guiding spirit; but at length they came round to the lady's own parish of Kilrundle, which she, as ruling lady of the ruling elder and chief adherent, considered as her own in a more especial sense than did any other of the parishioners.