like a whirlwind, when the Colonel had politely expelled her from her father’s room at Timber End.  Possessed with the idea of Rachel’s being very dull at Bishopsworthy, she sedulously enlivened her with melancholy prognostics as to the life, limbs, and senses of the young heir, who would never live, poor little darling, even with the utmost care of herself and her nurse, and it was very perverse of papa and the doctors still to keep him from her—­poor little darling—­not that it mattered, for he was certain not to thrive, wherever he was, and the Gowanbrae family would end with Uncle Colin and the glassblower’s daughter; a disaster on which she met with such condolence from Alick (N.  B. the next heir) that Rachel was once reduced to the depths of genuine despair by the conviction that his opinion of his nephew’s life was equally desponding; and another time was very angry with him for not defending Ermine’s gentility.  She had not entirely learnt what Alick’s assent might mean.

Once, when Mrs. Menteith had been besetting her father with entreaties for the keys of Lady Keith’s private possessions, she was decisively silenced, and the next day these same keys were given to Alick, with a request that his wife would as soon as possible look over and take to herself all that had belonged to his sister, except a few heirloom jewels that must return to Scotland.  Alick demurred greatly, but the old man would not brook contradiction, and Rachel was very unwillingly despatched upon the mission on one of Alick’s days of prostration at home.  His absence was the most consoling part of this sad day’s work.  Any way it could not be otherwise than piteous to dismantle what had been lately so bright and luxurious, and the contrast of the present state of things with that in which these dainty new wedding presents had been brought together, could not but give many a pang; but beside this, there was a more than ordinary impression of “vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” very painful to affection that was striving to lose the conviction that it had been a self-indulgent, plausible life.  The accumulation of expensive trinkets and small luxuries, was as surprising as perplexing to a person of Rachel’s severely simple and practical tastes.  It was not only since the marriage; for Bessie had always had at her disposal means rather ample, and had used them not exactly foolishly, but evidently for her own gratification.  Everything had some intrinsic worth, and was tasteful or useful, but the multitude was perfectly amazing, and the constant echo in Rachel’s ears was, “he heapeth up riches and cannot tell who shall gather them.”  Lord Keith could hardly have found an executrix for his poor young wife, to whom her properties would have done so little harm.  Rachel set many aside for the cousins, and for Mrs. Menteith, others she tried to persuade the Colonel to call Gowanbrae belongings, and failing in this, she hoped through Grace, to smuggle some of them into his Gowanbrae; but when all was done, there was a mass of things that Lord Keith never wished to see again, and that seemed to Rachel to consist of more ornaments than she could ever wear, and more knick-knacks than a captain’s wife could ever carry about with her.