At this Mary started somewhat.
"My uncle?" said she. "Why, what cause of offence could there have been between him and them? What injury could they possibly have done him?"
"Injury? Plenty of injury: in stirring up ill-will and rebellion among the tenants. It's yourself, Miss Stanley, will find that out ere long; oh, yes, wait till ye come to have dealings with these people, ye'll find out what they are, I'm thinking! A stubborn and stiff-necked race; and cunning as the very mischief; and revengeful and dark. But we broke their obstinacy that time!" He laughed again: a malignant laugh.
"I saw ye noticed it, Miss Stanley, as we came along this afternoon—the dried-up place that was once a loch, and the pile of stones——"
She remembered well enough; and also she recollected the vicious slash the driver had made at his horses when the factor was grinningly answering her question.
"Yes, but I did not quite understand what it meant," said she.
"I'll just tell ye."
Mr. Purdie poured himself out a little drop of whiskey—a very little drop—in an inadvertent way. There was quite a happy look on his face when he began his tale.
"Ay; it's a fine story when people of obstinate nature meet their match; and your uncle, Miss Stanley, could hold his own—when there was proper counsel behind his back, if I may say so. And what had Mrs. Ross and her son to do with anything on the land? Heimra island out there had been reserved for them all the way through, as the estate was going bit by bit; and when Lochgarra went as well, there was still the island to preserve the name of the family, as it were. And was not that enough? What did they want—what could any one want—with Loch Heimra and Castle Heimra, when they had been sold into other hands? If they wanted the name kept in perpetuity, there was the island—which undoubtedly belonged to the Rosses; but the loch and the castle on the mainland, they were gone; they had been sold, given up, cut adrift. And so, says your uncle, 'we'll cut adrift the name too. They have their Heimra Island; that is sufficient: the loch and the castle are mine, and that must be understood by all and sundry.' Natural, quite natural. Would ye have people giving themselves a title from things not belonging to them at all, but to you? And what was the castle but a heap of old stones, with about six or seven hundred years of infamy, and bloodshed, and cruelty attached to it? Ay; they could show ye a red patch on the earthen floor of the dungeon that was never dry summer or winter. Many's the queer thing took place in that stronghold in the old days. 'Well, well,' says your uncle, 'if they will call themselves "of Heimra," let it be of Heimra Island. The loch and the castle are not theirs, but mine; and, being mine, I am going to give my own name to them. Loch Stanley—Castle Stanley—that's what they are to be. I'm not going to have strangers calling themselves after my property. Let them keep the island if they like——"
"Why, what did it matter?" said Mary. "They did not claim either the castle or the loch. It was merely the old association—the historical association; and what harm did that do to any one? And an interesting place like that, that has been in possession of the same family for centuries——"