Thetwo men stood with the background of dark figures behind, while the inspector who was at the head of the party advanced towards them. Robbie, with his long beard and his cloak over his shoulder, was the one upon whom all eyes were fixed. One of the policemen held him firm by the arm. His countenance was dark, his air sullen, like a wild beast taken in the toils. The other by his side, almost spruce in his loose coat, his clean-shaven face seeking no shadow, facing the enemy with a half-smile upon it, easy, careless, fearing no evil—produced an effect quite contrary to that which the dark and bearded brigand made upon the officers of the law. Who could doubt that it was he who was the son of the house, “led away” by the truculent ruffian by his side? There was no mention of Robbie’s name in the warrant. And the sight of Robbie’s mother, and her defence of her threshold, had touched the heartseven of the police. To take away this ruffian, to leave her her son in peace, poor old lady, relieving her poor little quiet house of the horror that had stolen into it—the inspector certainly felt that he would be doing a good service to his neighbour as well as obeying the orders of the law.
“The one with the beard,” he said, looking at a paper which he held in his hand—“that is him. Secure him, Green. Stand by, men; be on your guard; he knows what he’s about—— ah!” The inspector breathed more freely when the handcuffs clicked on Robert Ogilvy’s wrists, who for his part neither resisted nor answered, but stood looking almost stupidly at the scene, and then down upon his hands when they were secured. The other by his side put up a hand to his face, as if overwhelmed by the catastrophe, and fell a little backward, overcome it seemed with distress—as Robbie ought to have done, had this and not the ruffian in the beard been he.
Mrs Ogilvy had been leaning on Susie’s shoulder, incapable of more, her heart almost ceasing to beat, all her strength gone; but when the words, “the one with the beard,” reached dully and slowly to her comprehension, she made but one bound, pushing with both arms every one away from her, and with a shriek appeared in the midst of the group. “It is my son,” she cried, “my son, my son! It is Robbie Ogilvy and no one else. It is my son, my son, my son!” Sheflung herself upon him, raving as if she had suddenly gone mad in her misery, and tried to pluck off with her weak hands the iron bands from his wrists. Her cries rang out, silencing every other sound. “It is my son, my son, my son!—--”
“I am very sorry, madam; it may be your son, and still it may be the man we want,” the inspector said.
And then another shrill woman’s voice burst forth from behind. “You fools, he’s escaping! Don’t you see?”—the speaker clapped her hands with a sound that rang over their heads. “Don’t you see! It’s easy to take off a beard. If you waste another moment, he’ll be gone!”
He had almost got beyond the last of the men, retreating very softly backwards, while all the attention was concentrated upon Robbie and his mother. But he allowed himself to be pushed forward again at the sound of this voice, as if he had had no such intention. A snarl like that of a furious dog curled up his lip at the side for a moment; but he did not change his aspect—the game was not yet lost.
“There are folk here,” cried Mrs Ogilvy, still plucking at the handcuffs, while Robbie stood silent, saying nothing—“there are folk here who have known him from his cradle, that will tell you he’s Robert Ogilvy: there are my servants—there is the minister, here present God knows why or wherefore: they know—he’s been absent from his home many a day; but he’sRobert Ogilvy: no the other. If he’s Robert Ogilvy he is not the other: if he’s my son he’s not that man. And he is my son, my son, my son! I swear it to you—and the minister. Mr Logan, tell them——”
Mr Logan’s mind was much disturbed. He felt that providence itself had sent him here; but he was slow to make up his mind what to say. He wanted time to speak and to explain. “I have every reason to think that is Robert Ogilvy,” he said; “but I never saw him with a beard; and what he may have been doing all these years——”
“Mr Inspector,” cried Mrs Ainslie, panting with excitement, close to the officer’s side. “Listen to me: as it chances, I know the man. There is no one here but I who knows the man. It shows how little you know if you think that idiot is Lew. I’m a respectable lady of this place, but I’ve been in America, and I know the man. I’ve seen him—I’ve seen him tried for his life and get off; and if you drivel on like that, he’ll get off again.ThatLew!” she cried, with a hysterical laugh,—“Lew the devil, Lew the road-agent! That man’s like a sheep. Do you hear me, do you hear me? You’ll let him escape again.”
Now was the time for Robbie to speak, for his mother to speak, and say, “That is the man!” But Mrs Ogilvy was absorbed tearing in vain at the handcuffs, repeating unconsciously her exclamation, “My son, my son!” And he stood looking down upon herand her vain struggle, and upon his own imprisoned hands. I doubt whether she knew what was passing, or was conscious of anything but of one thing—which was Robbie in those disgraceful bonds. But he in his dull soul, forced into enlightenment by the catastrophe, was very conscious of everything, and especially that he was betrayed—that he himself was being left to bear the brunt, and that his friend in his character was stealing away.
Janet had been kept back, partly by fright and astonishment, partly by the police and Andrew, the last of whom had a fast hold upon her gown, and bade her under his breath to “Keep out o’t—keep out o’t; we can do nothing:” but this restraint she could no longer bear. Her desire to be in the midst of everything, to be by her mistress’s side, to have her share of what was going on, would have been enough for her, even if she felt, as Andrew did, that she could do no good. But Janet was of no such opinion. Was she not appealed to, as one whose testimony would put all right? She pushed her way from among the men, pulling her cotton gown, which tore audibly, out of Andrew’s hand. “Sir, here am I: let me speak,” she said. “This is Mr Robert Ogilvy, that I’ve known since ever he was born. He came home the 15th of June, the same day many weary years before as he ran away. The other gentleman is Mr Lewis, his friend, that followed himhere about a month ago at the most, a real fine good-hearted gentleman, too, if maybe he has been a little wild. Our gentleman is just as he was when he came out of the deserts and wildernesses. We’re not a family that cares a great deal for appearances. But Mr Lewis, he’s of another way of thinking, and we’ve had a great laughing all day at his shaving off of his beard.”
“That’s what I told you!” said Mrs Ainslie, in her excitement pulling the inspector’s arm. “I told you so! What’s a beard? it is as easy to take off as a bonnet. And he would have got clean off—look at him, look at him!—if it hadn’t been for me.”
“Look after that man, you fellows there,” said the inspector’s deep voice. “Don’t let him get away. Secure them both.”
No one had put handcuffs on Lew’s wrists; no policeman had touched him; he had been free, with all his wits about him, noting everything, alert, all conscious, self-possessed. Twice he had almost got away: the first time before Mrs Ainslie had interfered; the second when Janet with her evidence had come forward, directing all attention once more to Robbie—during which moment he had made his way backward again in the most cautious way, endeavouring to get behind the backs of the men and make a dash for the door. Almost! but what a difference was that! The policemen, roused and startled,hustled him forward to his “mate’s” side, but still without laying a hand upon him. All their suspicions and observation were for the handcuffed criminal standing silent and gloomy on the other side. Lew maintained his careless attitude well, nodding at the inspector, with a “Well, well, officer,” as if he yielded easily but half-contemptuously to punctilio. But when he saw another constable draw from his pocket another pair of handcuffs, he changed colour; his eyes lighted up with a wild fire. Mrs Ainslie, who had got beyond her own control, followed his movements with the closest inspection. She burst into a laugh as he grew pale. Her nerves were excited far beyond her control. She cried out, without knowing, without intending, “Ah, Lew! You have had more than you meant. You’ve found more than you wanted. Caught! caught at last. And you will not get off this time,” she cried, with the wild laugh which she was quite unable to quench, or even to restrain.
Whether he saw what no doubt was true, that every hope was over, and that, once conveyed to Edinburgh, no further mistake was possible, and his fate sealed; or whether he was moved by a swift wave of passion, as happened to him from time to time—and the exasperation of the woman’s voice, which worked him to madness—can never be known. He was still quite free, untouched by any one; but the handcuffs approaching which would make an end ofevery independent act. His tall figure, and clean-shaven, unveiled face seemed suddenly to rise and tower over every other in the heat and pale glow of passion. “You viper, Liz!” he thundered out. “Music-hall Liz!” with a fierce laugh, “here’s for you—the traitor’s pay!” And before any one could breathe or speak, before a hand could be lifted, there was a sudden flash and report, and in a moment he had flung himself forward upon the two or three startled men in front of him, with a rush for the open door, and the pistol still smoking in his hand. Two steps more, and he would have been out in the open, in the fresh air that breathed like heaven upon him, among the dark trees that give hiding and shelter, and make a man, with his wits about him, a match for any dozen. Two steps more! But rapid as he was, there were too many of them to make such an escape possible. Before he had reached that open way, half-a-dozen men were upon him. The struggle was but for a moment—a wild sudden tumult of stamping feet and loud voices; then there was again a sudden flash and report and fall. The whole band seemed to fall together—the men who had grappled with him being dragged with him to the ground. They gathered themselves up one by one—everybody who could move: and left the one on the ground who would never move again.
He had so far succeeded in his rush that his headfell outside the open door of the Hewan, where his face caught the calm line of the moonlight streaming in. The strange white radiance enveloped him, separating him from everything round—from the men who, struggling up to their feet, suddenly hushed and awe-stricken, stood hastily aside in the shadow, looking down upon the prisoner who had thus escaped from their hands. He lay right across the threshold in all his length and strength of limb,—motionless now, no struggle in him, quenched every resistance and alarm. It was so instantaneous, that the terrible event—that sudden, incalculable change of death, which is of all things in the world the most interesting and tremendous to all lookers-on—became doubly awful, falling, with a solemn chill and horror which paralysed them, upon the astonished men around. Dead! Yet a moment since flinging off the strongest, struggling against half-a-dozen, almost escaping from their hands. He had escaped now. None of them would willingly have laid a finger on him. They stood trembling round, who had been grappling him a minute before, keen for his subjugation. The curious moon, too still and cold for any ironical meaning, streamed on him from head to foot in the opening of the doorway, displaying him as if to the regard of men and angels, with a white blaze upon his upturned face, and here and there a strong silver line where an edge of his clothing caught the whiteness in relief. Everything else was inshadow, or in the trembling uncertainty of the indoor light. The pistol, still with a little smoke from it, which curled for a moment into the shining light and disappeared, was still in his hand.
This was the end of that strange visit to the little tranquil house, where he had introduced so much disturbance, so strange an overturning of every habit. He had taken it for his rest and refuge, like a master in a place where every custom of the tranquil life, and every principle and sentiment, cried out against him. He had made the son his slave, but yet had not made the mother his enemy. And yet a more wonderful thing had happened to Lew. He, whom nobody had loved in his life, save those whose vile affections can be bought for pay, and who dishonour the name—and for whom nobody would have wept had he not strayed into this peaceful abode and all but ruined and destroyed it—had tears shed for him here. Had he never come to the Hewan—to shed misery and terror around him, to kill and ruin, to rob and slay, as for some time at least he had intended—there would have been no lament made for the adventurer. But kind nature gained him this much in his end, though he no way deserved it. And the moonlight made him look like a hero slain in its defence upon the threshold of the outraged house,—the only house in the world where prayer had ever been said for this abandoned soul.
Itwas only when that extraordinary momentary tragedy was over, and the hush of silence, overawed and thunder-stricken, had taken the place of the tumult, that it became apparent to most of the spectators that all was not over, that there was yet something to be done. “Let some one go for the nearest doctor,” the inspector said quickly.
“No need for any doctors here, sir,” said the men in concert.
“Go at once; you, Young, that know where to find one: and some of you go with him, to lose no time. There’s a woman shot beside,” said the officer in his curt tones of command.
But the woman shot was not Mrs Ainslie, at whom the pistol was levelled. These three visitors, so strangely mixed up in themêléeand in the confusion of events, had been hustled about among the policemen, to the consternation of the father anddaughter, who could not explain to themselves at first what was going on, nor what their companion had to do with it. As the course of the affair advanced, Mr Logan began to perceive, as has been said, that it was a special providence which had brought him here; but Susie, troubled and full of anguish, her whole heart absorbed in Robbie and his mother, and the mysterious trouble which she did not understand, which was hanging over them, stood alone, pressed back against the wall, following every movement of her friends, suffering with them. A sharp cry had come out of her very heart when the handcuffs—those dreadful signs of shame—were put upon his hands. She saw nothing, thought of nothing, but these two figures—what was any other to her?—and all that she understood or divined was that some dreadful trouble had happened to Robbie, and that she could not help him. She took no notice of her future step-mother’s strange proceedings, nor of the extraordinary fact that she had forced herself into the midst of it—she, a stranger—and was adding her foolish shrill opinion to the discussion. If Susie thought of Mrs Ainslie at all, it was with a passing reflection that she loved to be in the midst of everything, which was far too trifling a thought to occupy Susie in the deep distress of sympathy in which she was. Her father moved about helplessly among the men. He thought he had been brought there by a special providence, but he did not know what to do.Mrs Ogilvy had turned upon him almost fiercely, when he had hesitated in giving his testimony for Robbie—which was not from any lack of kindness, but solely because he wanted to say a great deal on the subject. Mrs Ogilvy by this time had come a little to herself, she had given up the foolish struggle with the handcuffs; and when Janet’s over-frankness had drawn attention again to Lew, the mistress withdrew for a moment her own anxious looks from her son, and turned to the other, of whom she had said nothing, protecting him instinctively, even in the face of Robbie’s danger. But when she looked at Lew’s face, she trembled. The horror of last night came over her once more. Was that murder that was in it, the fire of hell? She had learned now what it meant when he put his hand to his pocket, and hers, perhaps, was the only eye that saw that gesture. He was looking at some one: was it at her, was it at some one behind her? Mrs Ogilvy instinctively made a step back, whether to escape in her own person, or to protect that other, she knew not, her eyes fixed on him with a fascination of terror. She stretched out her arms, with her shawl covering them like wings, facing him always, stretching forth what was like a white shield between him in his fury and all the unarmed defenceless people. She seemed to feel nothing but the sharp sound of the report, which rang through and through her. She did not know why she fell. There came ashriek from the woman behind her, at whom that bullet was aimed; but the real victim fell softly without a cry, with a murmur of bewilderment, and the sharp sound still ringing, ringing in her ears. The man seemed to spring over her where she lay; but she knew no more of what had happened, except that soft arms came suddenly round her, and her head was raised on some one’s breast, and Susie’s voice began to sound over her, calling her name, asking where was she hurt. She did not know she was hurt. It all seemed to become natural again with the sound of Susie’s voice. She did not lose consciousness, though she fell, and though it was evident now that the white shawl was all dabbled with red. It was hard to tell what it all meant, but yet there seemed some apology wanted. “He did not mean it,” she said; “he did not mean it. There is—good in him.” She laid her head back on Susie’s bosom with a soft look of content. “It is maybe—not so bad as you think,” she said.
The shot was in the shoulder, and the wound bled a great deal. No ambulance classes nor amateur doctoring had reached so far as Eskholm; but Susie by the light of nature did all that was possible to stop the bleeding until the doctor came. She sent Janet off for cushions and pillows, to make so far as she could an impromptu bed, that the sufferer might rest more easily. Most of the police party had been ordered outside, though two of them still stood, aliving screen, between the group round the wounded woman and that figure lying in the doorway, which was not to be disturbed till the doctor came, some one having found or fancied a faint flutter in the heart. Mrs Ainslie, to do her justice, had been totally overwhelmed for the moment. She had flung herself down on her knees by Mrs Ogilvy’s side, weeping violently, her face hidden in her hands. She was of no help in the dreadful strait; but at least she was in a condition of excitement and shattered nerves from which no help could be expected. Mr Logan had not taken any notice of her, though he was not yet aroused to any questions as to her behaviour and position here. He was moving about with soft suppressed steps from one side to another, in an agony of desire to do his duty, and consciousness of having been brought by a special providence. But the minister was appalled by the dead face in the moonlight, the great figure fallen like a tower. When it was said there was still life in him, he knelt down heroically by Lew’s side, and tried to whisper into his ear an entreaty that still at the eleventh hour he should prepare to meet his God. And then he came round and looked over his daughter’s head at Mrs Ogilvy. Ought he to recall to her mind the things that concerned her peace as long as she was able to hear? But the words died on the minister’s lips. He was a good man, though he was not quick to understand, or able to divine. His lipsmoved with the conventional phrases which belonged to his profession, which it was his duty to say; but he could not utter any of them. He felt with a curious stupefied sense of reality that most likely after all God was here, and knew more perfectly all about it than he.
Meanwhile, the chief person in this scene lay quite still, not suffering as appeared, very quiet and tranquil in her mind, Susie’s arm supporting her, and her head on Susie’s breast. The bleeding had almost stopped, partly because of the complete peace, partly from Susie’s expedients. Mrs Ogilvy, no doubt, thought she was dying; but it did not disturb her. The loss of blood had reduced her to that state of weakness in which there is no struggle. Impressions passed lightly over her brain in its confusion. Sometimes she asked a question, and then forgot what it was, and the answer to it together. She was aware of a coming and going in the place, a sense of movement, the strange voices and steps of the men about; but they were all part of the turmoil, and she paid no attention to them. Only she roused a little when Robbie stood near: he looked so large, when one looked up at him lying stretched out on the floor. He was talking to some one gravely, standing up, a free man, talking and moving like the master of the house. She smiled and held out a feeble hand to him, and he came immediately and knelt down by her side. “He did notmean it,” she said. And then, “It is maybe not so bad as you think.” These were the little phrases which she had got by heart.
He patted her on the sound shoulder with a large trembling hand, and bade her be quiet, very quiet, till the doctor came.
“You have not left me, Robbie?”
“No, mother.” His voice trembled very much, and he stooped and kissed her. “Never, never any more!”
She smiled at him, lying there contented, with her head on Susie’s breast—joyful, but not surprised by this news, for nothing could surprise her now—and then she motioned to him to come closer, and whispered, “Has he got away?”
The appearance of the doctor, notwithstanding his pause and exclamation of horror at the door, was an unspeakable relief. That cry conveyed no information to the patient within, who did not seem even to require an answer to her question. There was no question any longer of any fluttering of Lew’s heart. The slight shake of the doctor’s head, the look on his face, his rapid, low-spoken directions for the removal of the dead man, renewed the dreadful commotion of the night for a moment. And then he had Mrs Ogilvy removed on the mattress which his skilled hands helped to place her on, into her own parlour, where he examined her wound. She was still quiteconscious, and told him over again her old phrases. “He did not mean it,”—and “Maybe it will not be so ill as you think,”—with a smile which wavered between consciousness and unconsciousness. Her troubled brain had got those words as it were by heart. She said them many times over during the course of the long and feverish night, during which she saw many visions, glimpses of her son bending over her, smoothing her pillow, touching her with ignorant tender hands, glimpses of Susie sitting beside her, coming and going. They were all dreams, she knew—but sometimes dreams are sweet. She was ill somehow—but oh, how immeasurably content!
This catastrophe made Robert Ogilvy a man—at least it gave him the courage and sense which since his arrival at home he seemed to have lost. He gave the police inspector an account of the man who was dead, who could no longer be extradited or tried, in Scotland or elsewhere. He did not conceal that he himself had been more or else connected with the troop which Lew had led. The inspector nodded. “We know all about that,” he said; “we know you didn’t count,” which pricked Robbie all the more, half with the sense of injured pride, to prove that now at least he did count. His story filled up all that the authorities had wanted to know. What Lew’s antecedents were, what his history had been, matterednothing in this country. They mattered very little even in that from which he came; and where already his adventures had dropped into the legends of the road which we still hear from America with wonder, as if the days of Turpin were not over. No one doubted Robert Ogilvy’s word. He felt for the first time, on this night, when for a brief and terrible moment he had worn handcuffs, and borne the brand of shame—and when he had felt that he was about to be left to stand in another man’s name for his life—that he was now a known person, the master, at least in a secondary sense, of a house which “counted,” though it was not a great house: and that he had, what he had never been conscious before of having, a local habitation and a name. Robbie was very much overpowered by this discovery, as well as by the other incidents of the night. He was not perhaps deeply moved by grief for his friend. The man had not been his friend; he had been his master, capable of fascinating and holding him, with an influence which he could not resist. But whenever he was removed from that influence, his mind and spirit had rebelled against it. Now it seemed impossible, too wonderful to believe, that he was free, that Lew’s voice would never call him back, nor Lew’s will rule him again. But neither was he glad. Lew had led him very far in these few days—almost to the robbing, almost to the killing, of his mother—his mother, whohad fought for them both like a lion, who had done everything and dared everything for their sakes. But the slave, the bondsman, though he felt the thrill of his freedom in his veins, did not rejoice in the death of his taskmaster. It was too recent, too terrible, too tragical for that. The sight of that familiar face lying in the moonlight was always before him—he could not get it out of his eyes. He did not attempt to go to bed, but walked up and down, sometimes going into the drawing-room where his mother lay, with a wonderful tenderness towards her, altogether new to his consciousness, and understanding of the part she had played. He had never thought of this before. It had seemed to him merely the course of nature, what was to be expected, the sort of thing women did, and were glad and proud to be permitted to do. To have a son to do everything for was her delight. Why should not the son take it as such?—she was pleasing herself. That was what he had always thought,—he awakened to a different sense, another appreciation, not perhaps very vivid, but yet genuine. She had almost been killed for her love—surely there was something in it after all, more than the course of nature. He was very sorry for her, to see her lying there with little spots of blood upon her white night-dress, and the shawl all covered with blood laid aside in the corner. Poor mother! She was old and shewas weak, and most likely she would die of it. And it was Lew’s doing, and all for his own sake.
The house had once more become still. The crowd of people who had so suddenly taken possession of it had surged away. No one knew how it was that Mr Logan and his daughter and the lady who was going to be his wife had appeared in that strange scene, and no one noted how at least the last-named person disappeared. One moment she was kneeling on the floor, in wild fits of convulsive weeping, her hat pushed back from her head, her light hair hanging loose, wholly lost in trouble and distress: the next she was gone. She had indeed stolen away in the commotion caused by the arrival of the doctor, when Mrs Ogilvy was taken away, and that tragic obstruction removed from the doorway. It is to be supposed that she had come to herself by that time. She managed to steal out unseen, though with a shudder crossing the threshold where Lew had lain. It was she doubly, both in her betrayal of him, and in her exasperation of him, who was the cause of all; but probably she did not realise that. She found her way somehow through the moonlight and the black shadows, along the road all slippery with the recent rain, to her own house, and there spent the night as best she might, packing up many things which she prized, clothes and trinkets, and thebibelots, which in their fashion and hers, she loved like her betters.And early in the morning, by the first train, she went away—to Edinburgh, in the first place, and Eskholm saw her no more.
When the doctor’s ministrations were over, for which Mr Logan waited to hear the result, the minister went into all the rooms looking for her. He had thought she was helping Susie at first; then, that she had retired somewhere in the excess of her feelings, which were more exquisite and delicate than those of common folk. He had in the excitement of the time never thought of as yet, or even begun to wonder at, the position she had assumed here, and the part she had taken. He knew that if his Elizabeth had a fault, it was that she liked to be always in the front, taking a foremost place in everything. He waited as long as he could, looking about everywhere; and then, when he was quite sure she was not to be found, and saw the doctor starting on his walk home, took his hat and went also. “You think it will not be fatal, doctor?”
“It may not be—I cannot answer for anything. She’s very quiet, which is much in her favour. But how, in the name of all that is wonderful, did I find a dead man, whom I never saw in life, lying across the doorsteps of the Hewan, and a quiet old lady like Mrs Ogilvy struck almost to death with a pistol-shot?”
“It is a wonder indeed,” said the minister. “I, ifye will believe me, was led there, I cannot tell ye how, with the idea of a common call—and found the police all about the house. It is just the most extraordinary special providence,” said Mr Logan with solemnity, “that I ever encountered in the course of my life.” He began by this time to feel that he had been of great use. But he was a little troubled, poor man, by the thought of his Elizabeth running home by herself, as she must have done in the night. He passed her house on his way to the manse, and was relieved to find that there was a light in her bedroom window; but though he knocked and knocked again, and even went so far as to throw up gravel at the window, he could obtain no response. He went home full of thought. There began to rise into his mind recollections of things which he was not conscious of having noticed at the time—of the energy with which she had rushed to the front (but that was her way, he reflected, with a faint smile) and insisted with the inspector: and then some one had called her Liz—Liz!—who was it that had called her Liz?
Mr Logan’s thoughts grew, through a night that was not very comfortable to him more than to the other persons involved. The absence of Susie made things worse. He would not have spoken to Susie on such a delicate subject, especially as she was already hostile; but still, if Susie had been there—in her absence there was an usual tumult in the house, and he had no oneto save him from it. And his mind was sorely troubled. She had taken a part last night that would not have been becoming in a minister’s wife. He would speak to her about it: and was it—could it be—surely it was that robber villain, the suicide, the murderer, who had called her Liz? It added to all his troubles, that when he had finally made up his mind to go to her—she not coming to him, as was her habit in the morning—he found her gone. Away to Edinburgh with the first train, leaving her boxes packed, and a message that they would be sent for, her bewildered maid said. Mr Logan returned home, a sorely disturbed man. But he never saw more the woman who had so nearly been his wife. There was truth in the story she told her daughter and son-in-law in Edinburgh, that the scene she had witnessed had completely shattered her nerves, and that she did not think she could ever face the associations of that dreadful place again. She did not cheat anybody or rob anybody, but left her little affairs at Eskholm in Tom Blair’s hands, who paid everything scrupulously. I don’t know that he ever was repaid; but he saw very little of his mother-in-law after this extraordinary overturn of her fate.
Mrs Ogilvy’s wound took a long time to heal, but it did heal in the end. She was very weak, but had for a long time that wonderful exemption from care which is usually the privilege of the dying, though she did not die. Perhaps there was no time of her life whenshe was happier than during these weeks of illness. Susie was by her bedside night and day. Robbie came in continually, a large shadow standing over her, staying but a moment at first, then longer, sitting by her, talking to her, answering her questions. I do not know that there was soon or fundamentally a great moral improvement in Robbie; but he had been startled into anxiety and kindness, and a little went a long way with those two women, who loved him. For there was little doubt in any mind, except perhaps in his own, that Susie loved him too, with something of the same tolerant, all-explaining, all-pardoning love which was in his mother’s heart. She had done so all her life, waiting for him all those years, through which he never thought of her: that did not matter to Susie,—nobody had ever touched her faithful simple heart but he. She would not perhaps have been an unhappy woman had he never come back: she would have gone on looking for him with a vague and visionary hope, which would have lent a grace to her gentle being, maiden-mother as she had been born. And even this wild episode, which she never quite understood, which she never desired to understand, made no difference to Susie. She forgave it all to the man who was dead, and shed tears over the horror of his fate; but she put easily all the blame upon him. Robbie had been faithful to the death for him, would have gone away instead of him to save him.It covered Lew with a shining mantle of charity that he called forth so much that was noble in his friend.
The minister, who was shamed to the heart, and wounded in hisamour proprebeyond expression by the desertion of Mrs Ainslie, and by the conviction, slowly forced upon him, that she had deceived him, and was no exquisite English lady of high pretensions but an adventuress—felt that the only amends he could make to himself and the world was to carry out his intention of marrying, and that as quickly as possible. Providence, as he piously said, directed his eyes to one of those kind old maids who fill up the crevices of the world, and who are often so humbly ready to take that position of nurse-housekeeper-wife, in which perhaps they can be of more use to their generation than in their solitude, and which satisfies, I suppose, the wish to belong to somebody, and be the first in some life, as well as the mother-yearning in their hearts. Such a blessed solution of the difficulty enchanted the parish, and satisfied the boys and the little girls, who had now unlimited petting to look forward to—and set Susie free. She married Robert Ogilvy soon after his mother’s recovery. Fortunately Mrs Ogilvy was never conscious of the details of the tragedy, and did not know ever what had lain there in the moonlight across her threshold. I doubt if she could have come and gone cheerfully as she did over that door-stone had she ever known. And the youngones full of their own life forgot—and the family of three continued in the Hewan in love and content. Robbie never became a model man. He never did anything, notwithstanding the fulness of his life and strength. He had no impulse to work—rather the reverse: his impulses were all in the way of idleness; he lounged about and occupied himself with trifles, and gardened a little, and carpentered a little, and was never weary. It fretted the two women often, sometimes the length of despair, especially Susie, who would burst out into regrets of all his talents lost, and the great things he might have done. But Mrs Ogilvy did not echo those regrets: she was well enough aware what Robbie’s talents were, and the great things which he would never have done. She represented to her daughter-in-law that if he had been weary of the quiet, if he had grown moody, tired of his idleness, tired of his life, as some men do, there would then have been occasion to complain. “But he is just very happy, God bless him!” his mother said. “And you and me, Susie, we are two happy women; and the Lord be thanked for all He has done for us, and no suffered me to go down famished and fasting to the grave.”
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.
CatalogueofMessrsBlackwood&Sons’Publications
PHILOSOPHICAL CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS.
Edited by WILLIAM KNIGHT, LL.D.,
Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of St Andrews.
In crown 8vo Volumes, with Portraits, price 3s. 6d.
Contents of the Series.
Descartes, by Professor Mahaffy, Dublin.—Butler, by Rev. W. Lucas Collins, M.A.—Berkeley, by Professor Campbell Fraser.—Fichte, by Professor Adamson, Owens College, Manchester.—Kant, by Professor Wallace, Oxford.—Hamilton, by Professor Veitch, Glasgow.—Hegel, by the Master of Balliol.—Leibniz, by J. Theodore Merz.—Vico, by Professor Flint, Edinburgh.—Hobbes, by Professor Croom Robertson.—Hume, by the Editor.—Spinoza, by the Very Rev. Principal Caird, Glasgow.—Bacon: Part I. The Life, by Professor Nichol.—Bacon: Part II. Philosophy, by the same Author.—Locke, by Professor Campbell Fraser.
FOREIGN CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS.
Edited by Mrs OLIPHANT.
In crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
Content of the Series.
Dante, by the Editor.—Voltaire, by General Sir E. B. Hamley, K.C.B.—Pascal, by Principal Tulloch.—Petrarch, by Henry Reeve, C.B.—Goethe, by A. Hayward, Q.C.—Molière, by the Editor and F. Tarver, M.A.—Montaigne, by Rev. W. L. Collins, M.A.—Rabelais, by Walter Besant, M.A.—Calderon, by E. J. Hasell.—Saint Simon, by Clifton W. Collins, M.A.—Cervantes, by the Editor.—Corneille and Racine, by Henry M. Trollope.—Madame de Sévigné, by Miss Thackeray.—La Fontaine, and other French Fabulists, by Rev. W. Lucas Collins, M.A.—Schiller, by James Sime, M.A., Author of ‘Lessing, his Life and Writings.’—Tasso, by E. J. Hasell.—Rousseau, by Henry Grey Graham.—Alfred de Musset, by C. F. Oliphant.
ANCIENT CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS.
Edited by the Rev. W. LUCAS COLLINS, M.A.
Complete in 28 Vols. crown 8vo, cloth, price 2s. 6d. each. And may also be had in 14 Volumes, strongly and neatly bound, with calf or vellum back, £3, 10s.
Contents of the Series.
Homer: The Iliad, by the Editor.—Homer: The Odyssey, by the Editor.—Herodotus, by George C. Swayne, M.A.—Xenophon, by Sir Alexander Grant, Bart., LL.D.—Euripides, by W. B. Donne.—Aristophanes, by the Editor.—Plato, by Clifton W. Collins, M.A.—Lucian, by the Editor.—Æschylus, by the Right Rev. the Bishop of Colombo.—Sophocles, by Clifton W. Collins, M.A.—Hesiod and Theognis, by the Rev. J. Davies, M.A.—Greek Anthology, by Lord Neaves.—Virgil, by the Editor.—Horace, by Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B.—Juvenal, by Edward Walford, M.A.—Plautus and Terence, by the Editor—The Commentaries of Cæsar, by Anthony Trollope.—Tacitus, by W. B. Donne.—Cicero, by the Editor.—Pliny’s Letters, by the Rev. Alfred Church, M.A., and the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, M.A.—Livy, by the Editor.—Ovid, by the Rev. A. Church, M.A.—Catullus, Tibullus, and Propertius, by the Rev. Jas. Davies, M.A.—Demosthenes, by the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, M.A.—Aristotle, by Sir Alexander Grant, Bart., LL.D.—Thucydides, by the Editor.—Lucretius, by W. H. Mallock, M.A—Pindar, by the Rev. F. D. Morice, M.A.
Saturday Review.—“It is difficult to estimate too highly the value of such a series as this in giving ‘English readers’ an insight, exact as far as it goes, into those olden times which are so remote, and yet to many of us so close.”
CATALOGUEOFMESSRS BLACKWOOD & SONS’PUBLICATIONS.
ALISON.
History of Europe. By SirArchibald Alison, Bart., D.C.L.
1. From the Commencement of the French Revolution to the Battle of Waterloo.
Library Edition, 14 vols., with Portraits. Demy 8vo, £10, 10s.Another Edition, in 20 vols. crown 8vo, £6.People’s Edition, 13 vols. crown 8vo, £2, 11s.
2. Continuation to the Accession of Louis Napoleon.
Library Edition, 8 vols. 8vo, £6, 7s. 6d.People’s Edition, 8 vols. crown 8vo, 34s.
Epitome of Alison’s History of Europe. Thirtieth Thousand, 7s. 6d.
Atlas to Alison’s History of Europe. By A. Keith Johnston.
Library Edition, demy 4to, £3, 3s.People’s Edition, 81s. 6d.
Life of John Duke of Marlborough. With some Account of his Contemporaries, and of the War of the Succession. Third Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. Portraits and Maps, 30s.
Essays: Historical, Political, and Miscellaneous. 3 vols. demy 8vo, 45s.
ACROSS FRANCE IN A CARAVAN:Being some Account Of a Journey From Bordeaux to Genoa in the “Escargot,”taken in the Winter 1889-90. By the Author of ‘A Day of my Life at Eton.’ With fifty Illustrations by John Wallace, after Sketches by the Author, and a Map. Cheap Edition, demy 8vo, 7s. 6d.
ACTA SANCTORUM HIBERNÆ; Ex Codice Salmanticensi. Nunc primum integre edita operaCaroli de SmedtetJosephi de Backer, e Soc. Jesu, Hagiographorum Bollandianorum; Auctore et Sumptus LargienteJoanne Patricio Marchione Bothae. In One handsome 4to Volume, bound in half roxburghe, £2, 2s.; in paper cover, 31s. 6d.
AGRICULTURAL HOLDINGS ACT, 1883. With Notes by aMember of the Highland and Agricultural Society. 8vo, 3s. 6d.
AIKMAN.
Manures and the Principles of Manuring. ByC. M. Aikman, D.Sc., F.R.S.E., &c., Professor of Chemistry, Glasgow Veterinary College; Examiner in Chemistry, University of Glasgow, &c. Crown 8vo, 6s. 6d.
Farmyard Manure: Its Nature, Composition, and Treatment. Crown 8vo 1s. 6d.
AIRD. Poetical Works of Thomas Aird. Fifth Edition, with Memoir of the Author by the Rev.Jardine Wallace, and Portrait. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
ALLARDYCE.
Balmoral: A Romance of the Queen’s Country. ByAlexander Allardyce. 3 vols. crown 8vo, 25s. 6d.
Earlscourt: A Novel of Provincial Life. 3 vols. crown 8vo, 25s. 6d.
The City of Sunshine. New and Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Memoir of the Honourable George Keith Elphinstone, K.B., Viscount Keith of Stonehaven, Marischal, Admiral of the Red. 8vo, with Portrait, Illustrations, and Maps, 21s.
ALMOND. Sermons by a Lay Head-master. ByHely Hutchinson Almond, M.A. Oxon., Head-master of Loretto School. Crown 8vo, 5s.
ANCIENT CLASSICS FOR ENGLISH READERS. Edited by Rev. W.Lucas Collins, M.A. Price 2s. 6d. each.For List of Vols., see p. 2.
ANNALS OF A FISHING VILLAGE. By “ASonOF THEMarshes.”See page 28.
AYTOUN.
Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers, and other Poems. By W.Edmondstoune Aytoun, D.C.L., Professor of Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres in the University of Edinburgh. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 3s. 6d.Another Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 7s. 6d.Cheap Edition. 1s. Cloth, 1s. 3d.
An Illustrated Edition of the Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers. From designs by SirNoel Paton. Small 4to, in gilt cloth, 21s.
Bothwell: a Poem. Third Edition. Fcap., 7s. 6d.
Poems and Ballads of Goethe. Translated by ProfessorAytounand SirTheodore Martin, K.C.B. Third Edition. Fcap., 6s.
Bon Gaultier’s Book of Ballads. By theSame. Fifteenth Edition. With Illustrations by Doyle, Leech, and Crowquill. Fcap. 8vo, 5s.
The Ballads of Scotland. Edited by ProfessorAytoun. Fourth Edition. 2 vols. fcap. 8vo, 12s.
Memoir of William E. Aytoun, D.C.L. By SirTheodore Martin, K.C.B. With Portrait. Post 8vo, 12s.
BACH.
On Musical Education and Vocal Culture. ByAlbert B. Bach. Fourth Edition. 8vo, 7s. 6d.
The Principles of Singing. A Practical Guide for Vocalists and Teachers. With Course of Vocal Exercises. Crown 8vo, 6s.
The Art of Singing. With Musical Exercises for Young People. Crown 8vo, 3s.
The Art Ballad: Loewe and Schubert. With Musical Illustrations. With a Portrait ofLoewe. Third Edition. Small 4to, 5s.
BAIRD LECTURES.
Theism. By Rev. ProfessorFlint, D.D., Edinburgh. Eighth Edition. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
Anti-Theistic Theories. By theSame. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d.
The Inspiration of the Holy Scriptures. By Rev.Robert Jamieson, D.D. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BAIRD LECTURES.
The Early Religion of Israel. As set forth by Biblical Writers and modern Critical Historians. By Rev. ProfessorRobertson, D.D., Glasgow. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d.
The Mysteries of Christianity. By Rev. ProfessorCrawford, D.D. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
Endowed Territorial Work: Its Supreme Importance to the Church and Country. By Rev.William Smith, D.D. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BALLADS AND POEMS. ByMembersOF THEGlasgow Ballad Club. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BANNATYNE. Handbook of Republican Institutions in the United States of America. Based upon Federal and State Laws, and other reliable sources of information. ByDugald J. Bannatyne, Scotch Solicitor, New York; Member of the Faculty of Procurators, Glasgow. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BELLAIRS.
The Transvaal War, 1880-81. Edited by LadyBellairs. With a Frontispiece and Map. 8vo, 15s.
Gossips with Girls and Maidens, Betrothed and Free. New Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. Cloth, extra gilt edges, 5s.
BELLESHEIM. History of the Catholic Church of Scotland. From the Introduction of Christianity to the Present Day. ByAlphons Bellesheim, D.D., Canon of Aix-la-Chapelle. Translated, with Notes and Additions, by D.Oswald Hunter Blair, O.S.B., Monk of Fort Augustus. Complete in 4 vols. demy 8vo, with Maps. Price 12s. 6d. each.
BENTINCK. Racing Life of Lord George Cavendish Bentinck, M.P., and other Reminiscences. ByJohn Kent, Private Trainer to the Goodwood Stable. Edited by the Hon.Francis Lawley. With Twenty-three full-page Plates, and Facsimile Letter. Third Edition. Demy 8vo, 25s.
BESANT.
The Revolt of Man. ByWalter Besant. Tenth Edition. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
Readings in Rabelais. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BEVERIDGE.
Culross and Tulliallan; or Perthshire on Forth. Its History and Antiquities. With Elucidations of Scottish Life and Character from the Burgh and Kirk-Session Records of that District. ByDavid Beveridge. 2 vols. 8vo, with Illustrations, 42s.
Between the Ochils and the Forth; or, From Stirling Bridge to Aberdour. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BICKERDYKE. A Banished Beauty. ByJohn Bickerdyke, Author of ‘Days in Thule, with Rod, Gun, and Camera,’ ‘The Book of the All-Round Angler,’ ‘Curiosities of Ale and Beer,’ &c. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BIRCH.
Examples of Stables, Hunting-Boxes, Kennels, Racing Establishments, &c. ByJohn Birch, Architect, Author of ‘Country Architecture,’ &c. With 80 Plates. Royal 8vo, 7s.
Examples of Labourers’ Cottages, &c. With Plans for Improving the Dwellings of the Poor in Large Towns. With 34 Plates. Royal 8vo, 7s.
Picturesque Lodges. A Series of Designs for Gate Lodges, Park Entrances, Keepers’, Gardeners’, Bailiffs’, Grooms’, Upper and Under Servants’ Lodges, and other Rural Residences. With 16 Plates. 4to, 12s. 6d.
BLACK. Heligoland and the Islands of the North Sea. ByWilliam George Black. Crown 8vo, 4s.
BLACKIE.
Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece. ByJohn Stuart Blackie, Emeritus Professor of Greek in the University of Edinburgh. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 5s.
BLACKIE.
The Wisdom of Goethe. Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, extra gilt, 6s.
Scottish Song: Its Wealth, Wisdom, and Social Significance. Crown 8vo. With Music. 7s. 6d.
A Song of Heroes. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BLACKMORE. The Maid of Sker. By R. D.Blackmore, Author of ‘Lorna Doone,’ &c. New Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BLACKWOOD.
Blackwood’s Magazine, from Commencement in 1817 to October 1894. Nos. 1 to 948, forming 155 Volumes.
Index to Blackwood’s Magazine. Vols. 1 to 50. 8vo, 15s.
Tales from Blackwood. First Series. Price One Shilling each, in Paper Cover. Sold separately at all Railway Bookstalls. They may also be had bound in 12 vols., cloth, 18s. Half calf, richly gilt, 30s. Or the 12 vols. in 6, roxburghe, 21s. Half red morocco, 28s.
Tales from Blackwood. Second Series. Complete in Twenty-four Shilling Parts. Handsomely bound in 12 vols., cloth, 30s. In leather back, roxburghe style, 37s. 6d. Half calf, gilt, 52s. 6d. Half morocco, 55s.
Tales from Blackwood. Third Series. Complete in Twelve Shilling Parts. Handsomely bound in 6 vols., cloth, 15s.; and in 12 vols., cloth, 18s. The 6 vols. In roxburghe, 21s. Half calf, 25s. Half morocco, 28s.
Travel, Adventure, and Sport. From ‘Blackwood’s Magazine.’ Uniform with ‘Tales from Blackwood.’ In Twelve Parts, each price 1s. Handsomely bound in 6 vols., cloth, 15s. And in half calf, 25s.
New Educational Series.See separate Catalogue.
New Uniform Series of Novels (Copyright). Crown 8vo, cloth. Price 8s. 6d. each. Now ready:—
The Story of Margrédel. By D. Storrar Meldrum.
Miss Marjoribanks. By Mrs Oliphant.
The Perpetual Curate, andThe Rector. By the Same.
Salem Chapel, andThe Doctor’s Family. By the Same.
A Sensitive Plant. By E. D. Gerard.
Lady Lee’s Widowhood. By General Sir E. B. Hamley.
Katie Stewart, and other Stories. By Mrs Oliphant.
Valentine, and His Brother. By the Same.
Sons and Daughters. By the Same.
Marmorne. By P. G. Hamerton.
Reata. By E. D. Gerard.
BeggarMYNeighbour. By the Same.
The WatersOFHercules. By the Same.
FairTOSee. By L. W. M. Lockhart.
MineISThine. By the Same.
DoublesANDQuits. By the Same.
Hurrish. By the Hon. Emily Lawless.
Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oliphant.
Piccadilly. By the Same. With Illustrations.
The RevoltOFMan. By Walter Besant.
Lady Baby. By D. Gerard.
The BlacksmithOFVoe. By Paul Cushing.
The Dilemma. By the Author of ‘The Battle of Dorking.’
My Trivial LifeANDMisfortune. By A Plain Woman.
Poor Nellie. By the Same.
Others in preparation.
Standard Novels. Uniform in size and binding. Each complete in one Volume.
FLORIN SERIES, Illustrated Boards. Bound in Cloth, 2s. 6d.
Tom Cringle’s Log. By Michael Scott.
The CruiseOF THEMidge. By the Same.
Cyril Thornton. By Captain Hamilton.
AnnalsOF THEParish. By John Galt.
The Provost, &c. By the Same.
Sir Andrew Wylie. By the Same.
The Entail. By the Same.
Miss Molly. By Beatrice May Butt.
Reginald Dalton. By J. G. Lockhart.
Pen Owen. By Dean Hook.
Adam Blair. By J. G. Lockhart.
Lady Lee’s Widowhood. By General Sir E. B. Hamley.
Salem Chapel. By Mrs Oliphant.
The Perpetual Curate. By the Same.
Miss Marjoribanks. By the Same.
John: A Love Story. By the Same.
BLACKWOOD.
Standard Novels.
SHILLING SERIES, Illustrated Cover. Bound in Cloth, 1s. 6d.
The Rector, andThe Doctor’s Family. By Mrs Oliphant.
The LifeOFMansie Wauch. By D. M. Moir.
Peninsular ScenesANDSketches. By F. Hardman.
Sir Frizzle Pumpkin, NightsATMess, &c.
The Subaltern.
LifeIN THEFar West. By G. F. Ruxton.
VALERIUS: A Roman Story. By J. G. Lockhart.
BON GAULTIER’S BOOK OF BALLADS. Fifteenth Edition. With Illustrations by Doyle, Leech, and Crowquill. Fcap. 8vo, 5s.
BONNAR. Biographical Sketch of George Meikle Kemp, Architect of the Scott Monument. Edinburgh. ByThomas Bonnar, F.S.A. Scot., Author of ‘The Present Art Revival,’ &c. With Three Portraits and numerous Illustrations. Post 8vo, 7s, 6d.
BRADDON. Thirty Years of Shikar. By Sir EDWARD BRADDON, K.C.M.G. With numerous Illustrations. In 1 vol. demy 8vo. [In the press.
BROUGHAM. Memoirs of the Life and Times of Henry Lord Brougham. Written byHimself. 3 vols. 8vo, £2, 8s. The Volumes are sold separately, price 16s. each.
BROWN. The Forester: A Practical Treatise on the Planting and Tending of Forest-trees and the General Management of Woodlands. ByJames Brown, LL.D. Sixth Edition, Enlarged. Edited by JOHN NISBET, D.Œc., Author of ‘British Forest Trees,’ &c. In 2 vols. royal 8vo, with 350 Illustrations, 42s. net.
BROWN. Stray Sport. By J.Moray Brown, Author of ‘Shikar Sketches,’ ‘Powder, Spur, and Spear,’ ‘The Days when we went Hog-Hunting,’ 2 vols. post 8vo, with Fifty Illustrations, 21s.
BROWN. A Manual of Botany, Anatomical and Physiological. For the Use of Students. ByRobert Brown, M.A., Ph.D. Crown 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, 12s. 6d.
BROWN. The Book of the Landed Estate. Containing Directions for the Management and Development of the Resources of Landed Property. ByRobert E. Brown, Factor and Estate Agent. Royal 8vo, with Illustrations, 21s.
BRUCE.
In Clover and Heather. Poems byWallace Bruce. New and Enlarged Edition. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.A limited number of Copies of the First Edition, on large hand-made paper, 12s. 6d.
Here’s a Hand. Addresses and Poems. Crown 8vo, 5s. Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 copies, price 21s.
BRYDALL. Art in Scotland; its Origin and Progress. ByRobert Brydall, Master of St George’s Art School of Glasgow. 8vo, 12s. 6d.
BUCHAN. Introductory Text-Book of Meteorology. ByAlexander Buchan, LL.D., F.R.S.E., Secretary of the Scottish Meteorological Society, &c. New Edition. Crown 8vo, with Coloured Charts and Engravings, [In preparation.
BUCHANAN. The Shirè Highlands (East Central Africa). ByJohn Buchanan, Planter at Zomba. Crown 8vo, 5s.
BURBIDGE.
Domestic Floriculture, Window Gardening, and Floral Decorations. Being practical directions for the Propagation, Culture, and Arrangement of Plants and Flowers as Domestic Ornaments. By F. W.Burbidge. Second Edition. Crown 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, 7s. 6d.
Cultivated Plants: Their Propagation and Improvement. Including Natural and Artificial Hybridisation, Raising from Seed, Cuttings, and Layers, Grafting and Budding, as applied to the Families and Genera in Cultivation. Crown 8vo, with numerous Illustrations, 12s. 6d.
BURGESS. Ragnarök. A Tale of the White Christ. By J. J.Haldane Burgess, Author of ‘Rasmie’s Büddie,’ ‘Shetland Sketches,’ &c. Crown 8vo, 6s.
BURROWS. Commentaries on the History of England, from the Earliest Times to 1865. ByMontagu Burrows, Chichele Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford; Captain R.N.; F.S.A., &c.; “Officier de l’Instruction Publique,” France. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BURTON.
The History of Scotland: From Agricola’s Invasion to the Extinction of the last Jacobite Insurrection. ByJohn Hill Burton, D.C.L., Historiographer-Royal for Scotland. New and Enlarged Edition, 8 vols., and Index. Crown 8vo, £3, 3s.
History of the British Empire during the Reign of Queen Anne. In 3 vols. 8vo. 36s.
The Scot Abroad. Third Edition. Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d.
The Book-Hunter. New Edition. With Portrait. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
BUTE.
The Roman Breviary: Reformed by Order of the Holy Œcumenical Council of Trent; Published by Order of Pope St Pius V.; and Revised by Clement VIII. and Urban VIII.; together with the Offices since granted. Translated out of Latin into English byJohn, Marquess of Bute, K.T. In 2 vols. crown 8vo, cloth boards, edges uncut. £2, 2s.
The Altus of St Columba. With a Prose Paraphrase and Notes. In paper cover, 2s. 6d.
BUTT.
Miss Molly. ByBeatrice May Butt. Cheap Edition, 2s.
Eugenie. Crown 8vo, 6s. 6d.
Elizabeth, and other Sketches. Crown 8vo, 6s.
Delicia. New Edition. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
CAIRD.
Sermons. ByJohn Caird, D.D., Principal of the University of Glasgow. Seventeenth Thousand. Fcap. 8vo, 5s.
Religion in Common Life. A Sermon preached in Crathie Church, October 14, 1855, before Her Majesty the Queen and Prince Albert. Published by Her Majesty’s Command. Cheap Edition, 3d.
CALDER. Chaucer’s Canterbury Pilgrimage. Epitomised byWilliam Calder. With Photogravure of the Pilgrimage Company, and other Illustrations, Glossary, &c. Crown 8vo, gilt edges, 4s. Cheaper Edition without Photogravure Plate. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d.
CAMPBELL. Critical Studies in St Luke’s Gospel: Its Demonology and Ebionitism. ByColin Campbell, D.D., Minister of the Parish of Dundee, formerly Scholar and Fellow of Glasgow University. Author of the ‘Three First Gospels in Greek, arranged in parallel columns.’ Post 8vo, 7s. 6d.
CAMPBELL. Sermons Preached before the Queen at Balmoral. By the Rev. A. A.Campbell, Minister of Crathie. Published by Command of Her Majesty. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d.
CAMPBELL. Records of Argyll. Legends, Traditions, and Recollections of Argyllshire Highlanders, collected chiefly from the Gaelic. With Notes on the Antiquity of the Dress, Clan Colours, or Tartans of the Highlanders. By LordArchibald Campbell. Illustrated with Nineteen full-page Etchings. 4to, printed on hand-made paper, £3, 3s.
CANTON. A Lost Epic, and other Poems. ByWilliam Canton. Crown 8vo, 5s.
CARRICK. Koumiss; or, Fermented Mare’s Milk: and its uses in the Treatment and Cure of Pulmonary Consumption, and other Wasting Diseases. With an Appendix on the best Methods of Fermenting Cow’s Milk. ByGeorge L. Carrick, M.D., L.R.C.S.E. and L.R.C.P.E., Physician to the British Embassy, St Petersburg, &c. Crown 8vo, 10s. 6d.
CARSTAIRS. British Work in India. By R.Carstairs. Crown 8vo, 6s.
CAUVIN. A Treasury of the English and German Languages. Compiled from the best Authors and Lexicographers in both Languages. ByJoseph Cauvin, LL.D. and Ph.D., of the University of Göttingen, &c. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
CAVE-BROWNE. Lambeth Palace and its Associations. By J.Cave-browne, M.A., Vicar of Detling, Kent, and for many years Curate of Lambeth Parish Church. With an Introduction by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Second Edition, containing an additional Chapter on Medieval Life in the Old Palaces. 8vo, with Illustrations, 21s.
CHARTERIS. Canonicity; or, Early Testimonies to the Existence and Use of the Books of the New Testament. Based on Kirchhoffer’s ‘Quellensammlung.’ Edited by A. H.Charteris, D.D., Professor of Biblical Criticism in the University of Edinburgh. 8vo, 18s.
CHENNELLS. Recollections of an Egyptian Princess. By her English Governess (Miss E.Chennells). Being a Record of Five Years’ Residence at the Court of Ismael Pasha, Khédive. Second Edition. With Three Portraits. Post 8vo, 7s. 6d.
CHESNEY. The Dilemma. By General SirGeorge Chesney, K.C.B., M.P., Author of ‘The Battle of Dorking,’ &c. New Edition. Crown 8vo, 8s. 6d.
CHRISTISON. Life of Sir Robert Christison, Bart., M.D., D.C.L. Oxon., Professor of Medical Jurisprudence in the University of Edinburgh. Edited by hisSons. In 2 vols. 8vo. Vol. I.—Autobiography. 16s. Vol. II.—Memoirs. 16s.
CHRONICLES OF WESTERLY: A Provincial Sketch. By the Author of ‘Culmshire Folk,’ ‘John Orlebar,’ &c. 3 vols. crown 8vo, 25s. 6d.
CHURCH SERVICE SOCIETY.
A Book of Common Order: being Forms of Worship issued by the Church Service Society. Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s. Also in 2 vols. crown 8vo, 6s. 6d.
Daily Offices for Morning and Evening Prayer throughout the Week. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
Order of Divine Service for Children. Issued by the Church Service Society. With Scottish Hymnal. Cloth, 3d.
CLOUSTON. Popular Tales and Fictions: their Migrations and Transformations. By W. A.Clouston, Editor of ‘Arabian Poetry for English Readers,’ &c. 2 vols. post 8vo, roxburghe binding, 25s.
COCHRAN. A Handy Text-Book of Military Law. Compiled chiefly to assist Officers preparing for Examination; also for all Officers of the Regular and Auxiliary Forces. Comprising also a Synopsis of part of the Army Act. By Major F.Cochran, Hampshire Regiment Garrison Instructor, North British District. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d.
COLQUHOUN. The Moor and the Loch. Containing Minute Instructions in all Highland Sports, with Wanderings over Crag and Corrie, Flood and Fell. ByJohn Colquhoun. Cheap Edition. With Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 10s. 6d.
COLVILE. Round the Black Man’s Garden. ByZélie Colvile, F.R.G.S. With 2 Maps and 50 Illustrations from Drawings by the Author and from Photographs. Demy 8vo, 16s.
CONSTITUTION AND LAW OF THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND. With an Introductory Note by the late Principal Tulloch. New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
COTTERILL. Suggested Reforms in Public Schools. By C. C.Cotterill, M.A. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
CRANSTOUN.
The Elegies of Albius Tibullus. Translated into English Verse, with Life of the Poet, and Illustrative Notes. ByJames Cranstoun, LL.D., Author of a Translation of ‘Catullus.’ Crown 8vo, 6s. 6d.