me sullen. I closed my mouth on the troubles
that would not bear to be let loose. "Why
should I speak, to embitter my after life with
shame? I drew my hand away from hers, and
turned my face to the wall.

"I never told you I did not like Luke," I
said, " and I never told you I liked any one else.
I cannot break my engagement."

She sprang from her seat on the bed. I did
not look round to see her, but I heard the anger
in her voice, as she spoke her parting words.

"Go your wicked way, then," she said to me,
"but. no blessing will go with you. I have
stooped very low, begging for your happiness
and my own. It is the last time. Good night."

Then I heard her door shutting.

CHAPTER X.

AT breakfast next morning there was some
discussion about getting up charades, to be
followed by a ball on the same night, at
Eldergowan. Nell would like to be a princess, Polly
would dearly love to be dressed up like an old
market-woman. Mrs. Hatteraick said Sylvia
would make a perfect Mary Stuart; and Mattie,
why Mattie might be transformed into an Italian
peasant. But the words must be chosen, said
Uncle Mark, before the parts could be cast; and
still more was it necessary that the resources of
Eldergowan in the way of properties should be
ascertained, before any other steps should be
taken.

So, after breakfast, Mrs. Hatteraick took me
up-stairs with her to an odd little attic where
lumber was kept. This was a little room at the
end of a long upper passage, nestling under the
eaves of the western gable, a little room where
there was a range of tall black ghoul-like
presses, and cavernous chests of drawers with
grotesque brazen handles; with an old cradle;
with mouse-holes; with pictures leaning against
the walls in tarnished frames, from which
mysterious features peered dimly into the daylight
of the present day; and with a lattice window
rustily bolted, from which you looked down into
the heart of the Eldergowan woods, beyond
them to moors and hills, and further still into
regions of indescribable cloud and sunshine—a
landscape full of a wild glory, a stream flashing
here, a streak of vivid purple there, an amber
valley printed with moving shadows, a lazy
cloud just waking to the sun along a frowning
ridge of rocks.

Mrs. Hatteraick unlocked her presses, and
their contents were dragged forth to the light—
ancient robes of faded satin with short waists
and tight skirts, tarnished brocades, Indian
scarves, velvet turbans, embroidered shoes,
plumes and wreaths, and a hundred fantastic
fripperies belonging to a bygone day. These
were duly examined, and then Mrs. Hatteraick
laid open some of the deep drawers, and showed
me stores of goodly linen and damask, also rare
old laces, untouched webs of delicate India
muslins, and exquisite painted gauzes,
handkerchiefs fine as cobweb loaded with the richest
needlework, curious fans carved in ivory and
various costly woods, with many other such
feminine treasures, which she told me were all
to be appropriated by Mark's wife, whenever
that person should make her appearance at
Eldergowan.

"She will be welcome when she comes,
Mattie," said the dear old lady, gazing at me in
her sweet wistful way, putting her soft hand
under my chin and drawing my face to hers for
a kiss.

"Provided you approve of her, Mrs. Hatteraick,"
I said, gaily. " Mothers are hard to please
for their sons. I dare say you would like a
princess out of a fairy tale, with all the good
gifts on earth."

I wanted to make a longer speech, but my
breath failed me.

"No, my love," said Mrs. Hatteraick, smiling.
"I shall only desire some one young, and fresh,
and warm hearted, and sweet tempered, such a
one as I know my Mark will choose; with a
kind stateliness, with a gentle pride, a lady at
all points. Nay, my darling, do not blush so
terribly and look so disturbed. I did not mean
to run too fast, nor to probe too deeply."

"Mrs. Hatteraick—!" I began, desperately,
with all my confession on my tongue, but at
the same moment the door was dashed open,
and in came Nell and Sylvia, followed by Polly
and a pet dog. The dog, dashing in amongst
the outspread fineries, was noisily ejected on
the passage, and up came Major Mark to know
what all the scuffling and whining was about.
The dog being disposed of, there followed an
examination of the articles lying around, and a
discussion as to what might and what might
not be available. Sylvia wound a yellow scarf
round my head, and threw a scarlet mantle over
my shoulders. Mark picked up a blue velvet
turban and perched it on his head, while Polly,
eager to make new discoveries, dived into a
press which had as yet not been ransacked, and
dragged forth in triumph a rusty-white satin
gown of ancient pattern, and, slipping into it,
began dancing about the room, crying,

"Grandmamma's wedding dress!
Grandmamma's wedding dress!"

"Polly! Polly!" remonstrated grandmamma,
gently.

"Is it really your wedding dress, Mrs.
Hatteraick?" said Sylvia, catching the little
flying figure in her extended arms, and examining
the robe with interest. " Dear, dear! what
a funny gown! Mattie, how should you like to
be married in this? Mrs. Hatteraick, you must,
lend it to Mattie for a pattern; she will want
one soon, you know."

"Mattie want one soon!" echoed Mrs. Hatteraick,
looking from me to Sylvia, and from Sylvia
to me, in perplexity. Then there followed a
sudden silence, and every eye was turned on
me, as if they were all waiting for me to
contradict this extravagant assertion, which could
only have been made in jest.

"Have I made a blunder, Mattie?" said
Sylvia, innocently. " Is it a secret here? Why,
I thought every one knew of your engagement
to Mr. Luke Elphinstone."

"I had never spoken of it here, Sylvia," I