“I hope to induce him to take her into favour.”

“Eh? and to make him give up to Colin Keith that Auchinvar estate that he ought to have had when Archie Keith died?”

“You may be sure I shall do my best for the Colonel.  Indeed, I do think Lord Keith will consent to the marriage now.”

“You have sacrificed yourself on that account?” he said, with irony in his tone, that he could have repented the next moment, so good-humoured was her reply, “That is understood, so give me the merit.”

“The merit of, for his sake, becoming a grandmother.  You have thought of the daughters?  Mrs. Comyn Menteith must be older than yourself.”

“Three years,” said Bessie, in his own tone of acceptance of startling facts, “and I shall have seven grandchildren in all, so you see you must respect me.”

“Do you know her sentiments?”

“I know what they will be when we have met.  Never fear, Alick.  If she were not married it might be serious, being so, I have no fears.”

Then came a silence, till a halt at the last station before Bath roused Alick again.

“Bessie,” he said, in the low voice the stoppage permitted, “don’t think me unkind.  I believe you have waited on purpose to leave me no time for expostulation, and what I have said has sounded the more harsh in consequence.”

“No, Alick,” she said, “you are a kind brother in all but the constructions you put upon my doings.  I think it would be better if there were more difference between our ages.  You are a young guardian, over anxious, and often morbidly fanciful about me during your illness.  I think we shall be happier together when you no longer feel yourself responsible.”

“The tables turned,” muttered Alick.

“I am prepared for misconstruction,” added Bessie.  “I know it will be supposed to be the title; the estate it cannot be, for you know how poor a property it is; but I do not mean to care for the world.  Your opinion is a different thing, and I thought you would have seen that I could not be insensible to such dignified kindness, and the warmth of a nature that many people think cold.”

“I don’t like set speeches, Bessie.”

“Then believe me, Alick.  May I not love the fine old man that has been so kind to me?”

“I hope you do,” said Alick, slowly.

“And you can’t believe it?  Not with Lady Temple before you and hers was really an old man.”

“Do not talk of her or Sir Stephen either.  No, Bessie,” he added more calmly after a time, “I may be doing great injustice to you both, but I must speak what it is my duty to say.  Lord Keith is a hard, self-seeking man, who has been harsh and grasping towards his family, and I verily believe came here bent on marriage, only because his brother was no longer under his tyranny.  He may not be harsh to you, because he is past his vigour, and if he really loves you, you have a power of governing; but from what I know of you, I cannot believe in your loving him enough to make such management much better than selfish manoeuvring.  Therefore I cannot think this marriage for your real welfare, or be other than bitterly grieved at it.  Do not answer, Bessie, but think this over, and if at any time this evening you feel the least doubt of your happiness in this matter, telegraph to me, and I will stop him.”