Sir Sampson having been now wheeled in by the still active Philistine, and properly arranged with the assistance of Miss Grizzy, she took her usual station by the side of his easy chair, and began to shout into his ear.

“Here’s my niece Mary, Sir Sampson; you remember her when she was little, I daresay—­you know you used to call her the fairy of Lochmarlie; and I’m sure we all thought for long she would have been a perfect fairy, she was so little; but she’s tall enough now, you see, and she’s going to be married to a fine young man.  None of us know him yet, but I think I must have seen him; and at any rate I’m to see him to-morrow, and you’ll see him too, Sir Sampson, for Mary is to bring him to call here, and he’ll tell you all about the battle of Waterloo, and the Highlanders; for he’s half a Highlander too, and I’m certain he’ll buy the Dhuanbog estate, and then, when my niece Mary marries Colonel Lennox—­”

“Lennox!” repeated Sir Sampson, his little dim eyes kindling at the name—­“Who talks of Lennox I—­I—­I won’t suffer it.  Where’s my Lady?  Lennox!—­he’s a scoundrel!  You shan’t marry a Lennox!” Turning to Grizzy, “Call Philistine, and my Lady.”  And his agitation was so great that even Grizzy, although accustomed for forty years to witness similar ebullitions, became alarmed.

“You see it’s all for fear of my marrying,” whispered she to Mary.  “I’m sure such a disinterested attachment, it’s impossible for me ever to repay it!”

Then turning to Sir Sampson, she sought to soothe his perturbation by oft-repeated assurances that it was not her but her niece Mary that was going to be married to Colonel Lennox.  But in vain; Sir Sampson quivered, and panted, and muttered; and the louder Grizzy screamed out the truth the more his irritation increased.  Recourse was now had to Philistine; and Mary, thoroughly ashamed of the eclat attending the disclosure of her secret, and finding she could be of no use, stole away in the midst of Miss Grizzy’s endless verbiage, but as she descended the stairs she still heard the same assurance resounding—­“I can assure you, Sir Sampson, it’s not me, but my niece Mary that’s going to be married to Colonel Lennox,” etc.

On returning to Beech Park she said nothing of what had passed either to Lady Emily or Colonel Lennox—­aware of the amusement it would furnish to both; and she felt that her aunt required all the dignity with which she could invest her before presenting her to her future nephew.  The only delay to her marriage now rested with herself; but she was desirous it should take place under the roof which had sheltered her infancy, and sanctioned by the presence of those whom she had ever regarded as her parents.  Lady Emily, Colonel Lennox, and her brother had all endeavoured to combat this resolution, but in vain; and it was therefore settled that she should remain to witness the union of her brother and her cousin, and then return to Lochmarlie.  But all Mary’s preconceived plans were threatened with a downfall by the receipt of the following letter from Miss Jacky:—­