ceiving news was more to her taste; but she knew what a treat letters were to those at home, and how eagerly Madge would look for one from her, and it would not have been like Norah to disappoint her. So she did her duty bravely, and at the appointed time seated herself in the boat, with a clear conscience and light heart. Duncan's services were dispensed with, as Geoffrey would row, and they went lazily up and down, enjoying the delicious evening and glorious view.

Norah was rather quiet; beautiful scenery, like beautiful music, made her disinclined to talk; and as she sat idly letting her hand dip into the water at each movement of the boat, with her pretty gray eyes dreamily fixed on the changing scene, she looked very sweet and simple. As I have said, a great charm about Norah was the entire absence of self-consciousness; and as Geoffrey sat opposite her, lazily pulling them along, he enjoyed his view quite as much as she did hers. The children kept up a little chatter between themselves, and Fanny was fully occupied in guarding their movements. Geoffrey felt quite inclined to be quiet too, just then, and they drifted along peacefully for some minutes. Norah roused herself presently, and said, laughing, 'This would soon turn into a Quakers' meeting were it not for the children. Mr. Lindsay, may I take an oar? I tried once or twice last year, and should like to see how much I remember.'

They changed places, and rowed home in a more sociable manner.

On reaching home they found Mr. Ross seated at the tea-table, doing its honours in truly masculine style to himself and Percival Leicester, who was, as usual, reclining in an armchair, listlessly

reading some letters which had arrived during his absence.

'Well, I do call this nice treatment,' remarked Mr. Ross, as the boating-party came in. Here are Leicester and I quite done up, expecting a cheerful welcome on our return home, and we find the house perfectly deserted, even the children out, and I am reduced to pouring out the tea-very untidy; disagreeable work it is too.'

'So you seem to have found, Mr. Ross,' said Norah, laughing, and pointing to the tea-cloth. I think that poor cloth has got quite as much tea as the cups. Fanny, you are tired. Let me pour out the tea, please do; I like it.'

'If you will be so good, dear, I shall be much obliged, and luxuriate in this armchair a little. Ned, if you wanted to find us at home, pray why did you return so early? It's barely six yet. Had you poor sport?'

'No; pretty good on the whole. But I don't fancy Leicester felt much inclined for it to-day, eh, Leicester?'

'Well, no; I can't say I did exactly. I fancy I was nervous, or something, and found myself constantly wondering what was going on at home,' answered Percival, with a languishing look towards Norah, which, however, she did not see, her attention being wholly given to the tea. Geoffrey came forward to hand the cups, which Percival perceiving, up he jumped, with many apologies for his tardiness; but he was too late, and only received a cool 'thanks' from Norah, and advice to rest after his long day's work, and then she went on with something she was saying to Geoffrey. Percival glanced at the two for a moment, with anything but a pleased expression of countenance, and, saying he had some letters to answer, quitted the room.

'What on earth is the matter with that boy?' asked Mr. Ross, when he was gone. 'He has been about as amiable as two sticks all day. Not brought down one bird, and only brightened up when I proposed returning home; a thing which I was very loth to do, for the birds were splendid -less wild than they have been for days. But I began to be afraid the boy was ill.'

'O, I don't think there is much the matter in that way,' said Fanny. He seemed well enough this morning, although I did not think he was very anxious to very anxious to shoot.'

'Perhaps the kilt does not quite agree with him. I noticed the colours were very bright, and perhaps the green was arsenic,' proposed Norah demurely.

Miss Grant, don't be so satirical. Why should not this descendant of the Leicesters dress as he chooses?' said Mr. Ross.

O, by all means,' answered Norah. Only it's a pity some "fay" could not "the giftie gie him, to see himself as others see him ;" and I hold to my opinion, that none but a Highlander has the right to wear a kilt, and if others do so, why, they deserve to look ill and be laughed at. However, let this particular kilt rest in peace, by all means, and Mr. Leicester may shoot in his dresssuit to-morrow, studs and all, without my remarking on the subject.'

He won't get the chance, I fear,' said Mr. Ross; for Macintosh thinks the birds require a rest. So we must amuse ourselves at home, and take a drive-to Dingwall, perhaps, if you feel inclined, or some such thing.'

and, departing with Guy Mannering, she enjoyed half an hour's comfortable reading before beginning to adorn herself for that meal.

She appeared at dinner-time in a pale-blue cashmere, with a lace handkerchief round her pretty shoulders, a dress that became her perfectly. Afraid she had been rather rude to Percival at teatime, she exerted herself to be polite and pleasant to him now, stupid as she found his conversation. Percival brightened wonderfully under the process, coming out with one or two more than usually brilliant remarks, and attaching himself to her so closely in the drawing-room afterwards that Norah began to repent of her kind-heartedness.

Of course Mr. Leicester sang; he did a little of everything, and excelled in nothing. Moreover, his songs invariably were about 'The Stormy Billows of the Deep,'

The Roar of the Winds,' or something equally stormy in character; and it used always to try Norah's gravity to the utmost to hear him warble these songs with his insignificant little tenor. Tonight, after she had played for some time and left the piano, he was requested to sing by the kindhearted Fanny, who knew he would be disappointed were he not asked, as he had a great idea of his own powers in that line. So he looked through his collection, being evidently particular in his selection to-night, and bringing two songs to Norah, asked if she would be so kind as to accompany him.

Hardly glancing at the songs, she answered, 'So sorry, Mr. Leicester, but you know I don't read music at first sight.'

'O, but really, Miss Grant,' remonstrated poor Percival, much hurt, I sang these songs ever so often last year to your accom

paniment these very same songs. I picked them out on purpose.'

Of course Norah could say no more; and, much to Geoffrey's amusement, who was seated near and had heard the whole affair, she rose and went to the piano, where Percival warbled away and felt happy.

Later on in the evening Mr. Ross said, I say, Geoff, you lazy fellow, you've not sung once since you came. Come, bring out your music and fire away. Perhaps Miss Grant will kindly accompany you.'

But, alas, if Norah 'could not read at first sight' one hour ago, she certainly could not pretend to have acquired the talent in so short a space of time; and so now, though she knew she could easily have complied with the request, she was obliged, on the same grounds as before, to refuse; and to her secret annoyance Fanny took her place, volunteering to try what she could do. Norah

and Geoffrey had been very pleasant and friendly all day, and she was really sorry to refuse.

As Fanny saw her visitor to her room that night, and they were warming their feet over Norah's fire, she said, 'Well, dear, what do you think of our visitors this year, now that you have had a day's experience?'

'O, as to Mr. Leicester, you know my feelings of last year concerning him, and they have not altered one jot. Mr. Lindsay seems nice; but I don't know him well enough to venture an opinion; with which cautious answer Mrs. Ross had to be content, as her friend then changed the subject.

CHAPTER III.

'She spake such good thoughts natural.' BROWNING.

MISS TENNANT arrived late the next afternoon. She was a girl of about five-and-twenty, small, and very dark. A nice girl on the whole, but very strongly imbued with the idea that everything English was right and everything Scotch-well, not wrong, but very far behind the rest of the world. Fanny had known her many years, but this was her first visit to Robin Lodge, and, indeed, to Scotland. Arriving late, she was too much fatigued with her journey to appear at dinner, so her first introduction to the guests in the house was at breakfast on Sunday morning. The weather seemed to be at 'set fair' just now; for it was another glorious day, as Norah observed with pleasure on rising that morning; a wet Sunday in the Highlands, many miles from a church, is rather a wearisome thing. Miss Tennant proved a very chatty young lady, much surprised at her first day in the Highlands being a fine one; in fact, she seemed to have prepared herself, from her remarks, to be surprised at everything she saw.

They generally had little homemade rolls for breakfast at Robin Lodge, very much the same as one might get in any country house in England; but Miss Tennant expressed herself much astonished at sight of them, greeting them rather as old friends in a land of strangers.

'Now, really,' said she; 'now, Mr. Ross, do you really get these things in Scotland? I never imagined you could.'

'Perhaps you thought our usual breakfast consisted of barley-broth and oat-cake, Miss Tennant?' he answered, much amused. 'No, I assure you we are quite civilised

up here, and make a rule of not having singed sheep's head for dinner more than four or five times a week.'

'No, really, Mr. Ross, do you, though? Well, I daresay it is very nice when you get accustomed to it. I am sure I am quite anxious to try it. Miss Grant, how do you get on up here with your English tastes? To-day, for instance, Sunday, I suppose you read the service at home, as I hear there is no English church near, or do you attend the service at the Scotch meeting-house?

Norah saw her host's colour rise, for he was a Scotchman to the core, and she hastened to say,

'O, you know, Miss Tennant, both Mr. and Mrs. Ross belong to the Established Church of the country; there is no such thing as a meeting-house here, and I have always gone with them.'

'But do just as you like, dear,' added Mrs. Ross kindly. 'I am truly sorry we have no English church near, as I know you will miss it. I did very much when first I came here, but have got quite reconciled to the change now.'

'Quite a case of "love me, love my church," you see, Miss Tennant,' laughed her husband; but we don't victimise our visitors unless they choose, and you will find lots of improving literature in the library if you prefer to stay at home.'

'O dear, no, Mr. Ross, by no means; I shall immensely enjoy going, everything will be so new to me;' and Miss Tennant was evidently prepared to be very much astonished indeed.

The whole party started about eleven for their eight miles' drive to church in the wagonette that always conveyed the family thither on Sundays.

Arrived at the church-door,

Mr. Ross led the way in, then let Miss Tennant pass to the top of the pew; Norah followed.

The first thing that evidently astonished Miss Tennant was the entrance of the precentor, who proceeded to seat himself in his place under the pulpit. Being arrayed in a black gown, similar to the minister's, she naturally inferred he was the clergyman, and whispered to Norah,

'Does he always begin the service in that little box? How funny!'

'Why, that's the precentor,' whispered Norah, in return. 'Conducts the singing, you know; the clergyman has not come in yet.'

Presently he entered, carrying his hat in his hand; gave out the psalm to be sung; and the precentor, stooping down, produced a large placard, whereon was inscribed the name of the tune. This he displayed in a conspicuous position to the congregation, and after a minute removed. Then touching his tuning fork, he hummed the note, and stood up. Miss Tennant stood up too! Norah touched her, finding it difficult to command her gravity; for the Lodge pew was exactly opposite the pulpit, and consequently to the precentor also, and the concerned look on that gentleman's face as he discovered his rival in the gallery was truly comical to behold. Miss Tennant saw her mistake in a moment, and resumed her seat, covered with confusion. The precentor had now started the tune in an incredibly high key, and the congregation at the third or fourth word joined in, all at their own sweet will and individual taste. He led them safely up to a truly astonishing pitch; then, with a placid smile, meanly left them to make the downward journey by themselves; and so on through

the psalm, varying the performance now and then with impromptu turns and shakes, wonderful to hear, but totally impossible to join in, they came at such unexpected moments. Then followed the prayer, and the clergyman was a truly good old man, and prayed as he felt. After that came the Old and New Testament reading, more singing of the same description as the first, more prayers, and the sermon. As soon as the text was given out, the precentor found the place in his large Bible, evidently wishing to call attention to the close way in which he meant to follow the discourse; but at the same time he carefully placed the Bible to one side of him. He then produced from his pocket a clean folded handkerchief, a box of snuff, and a paper parcel. The handkerchief he opened and laid on the desk before him; from the box of snuff he profusely helped himself with a small bone spoon; from the paper parcel he took a large peppermint-drop, which he conveyed to his mouth under cover of the palm of his hand. Then placing his head on the pocket-handkerchief, he remained in that position, immovable, during the rather lengthy sermon, to all appearance asleep, save for the cheerful crunching of peppermint he kept up all the time. Perhaps it was good for his voice; for he sang the final hymn with redoubled fervour, and, if possible, at a greater height than before. Then came the collection, when the whole congregation seemed to contribute the same sum of one penny. Miss Tennant had unfortunately forgotten her purse, and was going to let the box pass without contributing. She attempted this; but no, that patient little box at the end of the long stick remained station

ary in front of her, seeming to say, 'No, my friend, you have had your discourse, and must pay your penny' till Norah, taking pity on her, came to her rescue with a coin from her own purse; then, and not till then, did that imperturbable elder depart satisfied.

'Well, Miss Tennant,' remarked Mr. Ross, as they drove home, 'what do you think of our service? I rather suspect next Sunday you will prefer a book in the library.'

'Ono, Mr. Ross, indeed I liked it; every one seemed so much in earnest, and the service so simple and honest. If only some of the old women did not eat quite so many peppermints! Still, I must acknowledge it was altogether more primitive than I had expected.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Lindsay; but you know you must not take this special service as a pattern of how it is performed everywhere, in towns for instance. The primitive service naturally belongs to the more primitive part of the country, and if you go into a Scotch church in Edinburgh or Glasgow you will see the difference. So many of the churches have now quite got over their prejudice to organs, &c.; and, with all due respect to our friend the precentor, we must in honesty acknowledge the singing might be improved, although, poor man, he evidently did his best.'

'You speak as if you were half a Scotchman yourself, Mr. Lindsay,' remarked Norah.

And so I am, Miss Grant, just exactly half; for although my mother is English, my father was a thorough Scotchman. However, he gave in to all her English tastes, and I have grown up more English in my feelings than Scotch, and can uphold either country, or