Again she replied with strange distinctness; but the expression of her saddened face still belied the truth of her words to him.

"No, Mr. Auber, I cannot give you a lock of my hair. You

do not leave your heart with me. But you may sometimes think of me; and that I will remember you, you must well know."

"We do not part thus," he had just time to whisper, as Ishbel came bounding up the stairs, followed by the rest of the party, who had all returned in raptures from viewing a beautiful lunar rainbow which had spanned the hills. During the evening there were rather frequent inquiries on Harold's part as to the exact date of their visit to Strathshielie, and the expected ball at Couchfern; followed by a rather depressed expression of his countenance, which, however, cleared up as Ishbel remarked,

"You are sure to be asked too, Mr. Harold; and then you will come to Strathshielie."

"Oh! but they don't know us at Couchfern."

"But they know of you: that is enough in the Highlands." Then Harold would give a satisfied smile, and Ishbel a skip of delight. Glenbenrough invited Harold to remain all night, in order to try the trout in the river next day; to which he agreed. The whole party were up early next morning to bid adieu to Mr. Auber. It was a bright autumnal day: his luggage was being arranged upon the dog-cart, and they allstood at the hall door to see him start. He audibly asked Esmé to show him where the deer's-grass grew upon the Roua Pass, as he wished to take a parting piece to England with him; so she went to the hill with him; but the others did not follow.

66

Esmé, you will not let me go without a tress of hair ?” "No, Mr. Auber; I cannot give it to you: I told you so before."

"Cruel girl! I do not believe it: you will send it to me. Esmé, I dare not write to you, for that would not be pleasing to your father; but you may write to me: write to me sometimes, Esmé; will you?" He bent anxiously towards her.

"No, Mr. Auber," Esmé replied, with grave downcast look; "I will not write to you."

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Well, think of me, then," he pleaded, with more eagerness of voice and look than she had ever seen in him before. Her coldness chafed and excited him; he would have had her more demonstrative of his influence.

"Esmé, promise me you will not marry until you see me again not until next year."

One of her old smiles broke forth, and her face looked bright in its sunny youth, as she replied, "I can promise that."

"Then I need say no more. me, for you could not, Esmé."

I believe you will not forget

"You are right; I never shall forget you, Mr. Auber: but I have been kept from" she hesitated, and the concluding words faltered inaudibly from her lips. They were already amongst the birch-trees at the foot of the hill, returning, and but a few moments remained ere they should reach the others, who were still standing in front of the house. Auber spoke low and rapidly, detaining her by her hand.

"I will return: remember! You may sometimes see my name in the London papers. I may go abroad; but when I do, think of this, that whether in England or on the Continent, -amidst every phase of woman's beauty-but one face will be before me those deep blue eyes, and the face that I loved at the water-lily loch." He bent down, and suddenly impressing a burning kiss upon her cheek, was gone.

Esmé stood still amongst the birch-trees. She was not missed; for the moment that Auber drove off, Norah, Ishbel, and Mr. Harold descended to the river banks, with their fishing-rods; and Esmé went in the opposite direction. She threw herself upon the heather, beneath the shadow of the rocks, and reclined there in luxurious loneliness. She lay quiet beneath a glowing sun, and the echo of a tender voice murmured in her ear. Yes, he had a power over her: he must have had. That volatile fancy, romance, or what you will-which was an idiosyncrasy of Esmé-answered to the charm of Auber's thoughts, voice, and manner; but there were depths in her nature which would have required the passion of a noble heart like Marchmoram's to stir: she felt this was wanting in Auber. Marchmoram was the true steel, which, with magnetic force, drew her irresistibly towards himself. Had he been absent, Auber might have led her on with his bewildering fascinations; but as it was, her heart was safe from him her reason opposed him, and her inclination was towards another.

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CHAPTER XV.

THE BALL AT COUCHFERN-LADY IDA.

The ladies glided through the ha'
Wi' footing swift and sure;

But the Highland girl outdid them a'
When she stood upon the floor.-SCOTT.

I had leaned my head upon his breast,
And yet I had wept-I knew not why.
Oh! but my heart was ill at rest:

I could not hold nor bid him stay.-HOGG.

THERE were gay doings at Strathshielie. The house was full as only a Highland house can be filled guests were placed in every available nook; sofas and arm-chairs were converted into beds; and Marchmoram's valet, Greaves, was asked to sleep on the top of the mangle in the laundry, which he indignantly refused to do.

A large circle, nearly all intimate friends, was assembled in the drawing-room before dinner, the day previous to the ball at Couchfern; Harold, Marchmoram, and Sir Henry and Lady Lauriston, being the only strangers present: though the latter lady did not consider herself one; she was delighted to find herself again in old Scotland, after many years' absence, and was ready to regard with the most lenient judgment all native peculiarities. Sir Henry Lauriston was a slight fair man, very gentlemanly and amiable, always ready, with a smile and short nervous stutter, to agree to everything his wife proposed. He was in the happiest imaginable state of thraldom, being as utterly unconscious of it as his wife seemed to be. Harold, who was now talking to the lady, thought what an admirable wife a Scotchwoman made. Lady Lauriston was a pretty woman, with a quiet, kindly energy of manner; and though rather delicate naturally, yet, with that spirit of endurance which the Scotch possess, she rarely succumbed to it. When the piper set up a preliminary screech on the bagpipes, ere commencing his customary musical parade round the dinnertable, Sir Henry would contract his brow for a moment, and then relax into equanimity, as a bright glance from his wife told him he ought to think it" very nice. Indeed, she commanded his feelings in every way.

The other guests at Strathshielie were Sir Roderick and

Lady Mackenzie of Glenmardie; Mr. and Mrs. Grant of Seatoune, and their only son; two rather antiquated Miss Mac Gregors, cousins of the family, very poor, proud, and thin; Lady Fraser of Forran, a kind, rich old widow; young Campbell of Breesah; Normal of Arduashien, and one or two supplementary young ladies and bachelors. Marchmoram and Harold had arrived at Strathshielie to accompany the party next day to Couchfern, where Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Mac Leod were to give a ball, in honour of the return of their eldest son from a prolonged tour abroad. Young Couchfern was a popular man, strong and handsome like a young eagle, his sporting exploits and noble spirit won the admiration of both men and women: in both him and Campbell of Breesah, the volatile element of the Celtic blood showed itself; they enjoyed shooting all day, and dancing all night, as is the fashion in the Highlands; and relished a bottle of claret, or a nocturnal escapade, with equal zest but Couchfern's joviality flashed openly in his bright dark eyes and wicked smile, while Breesah showed his in the covert expression of his twinkling blue eyes. Young Seatoune, who was at Strathshielie, partook more of Normal Mac Alastair's character: he was rather shy and reserved, but observing, and had a keen sense of the ludicrous: he noted, with quiet amusement, the droll contrast in appearance and character of Sir Roderick and Lady Glenmardie, who now joined the circle; and even of his own father and mother, as they entered a little later. Lady Glenmardie was a vast, broad-shouldered, rawboned woman, with implacable gray eyes, and a long thin mouth; she was attired in black velvet, and sparkled with jewels. She spoke in loud masculine tones; and in her younger days she had driven tandem on the most dangerous roads in the Highlands, boasting of having used her whip on more horses and men-than any other woman in Scotland: indeed, whenever she dared, she still wielded the lash of her tongue as well as her thong. Sir Roderick, who was almost concealed amidst the voluminous folds of his wife's gown, emerged a small, thin, wizened man, with a weak treble voice and trembling little chuckle, dressed in the shrunken uniform of a deputy-lieutenant (an appointment held more by her than by him): he whispered to Lady Mac Neil that he was wearing a pair of his wife's boots, as she, in superintending the packing of his wardrobe, had forgotten that part of it. Lady Glenmardie overheard this confidential remark, and instantly com mented on it in a tone that resounded through the room.

"Forget your boots, Sir Roderick! No; but you chose to wear out your others so extravagantly, that I told you I would not order another pair until the 6th of next month: recollect, the 6th of next month!" and she gave an appealing laugh of triumph to the company. Poor Sir Roderick endeavoured to respond by a feeble chuckle, which waxed fainter as she continued: "And see you don't dance to-morrow night. I won't have mine cracked, I assure you."

"That would na be very likely," Sir Roderick ventured to mutter, as he looked down upon a boot an inch longer than his foot.

Mr. and Mrs. Grant of Seatoune were a study for a week. He was a tall, stolid Highlander, with a big head of bushy red hair, and thick shaggy eyebrows; and his rusty-looking clothes hung loosely upon him. He was taciturn, slow, and cautious, and assiduously devoted in his attentions to his snuff-mull, from which he frequently refreshed himself with immense pinches of snuff. His wife was a surprising old lady; very short and stout, her fat little hands covered with rings, and her large, coarse features surrounded by a profusion of tinsel ornaments and wonderful inventions of her own in blonde and gaudy ribands. Her estimate of her personal attractions was second only to that of her intellectual: the former she considered dangerous to any man's peace; but by the latter she believed she could take him prisoner at will: for she prided herself prodigiously on her conversational powers, and she fawned and flattered, courted and cringed, wherever she saw an opportunity of gratifying her vanity by displaying "her parts of speech," and to gain an invitation, all her small stock of worldly tact was exerted.

The first evening there was dancing of reels, and Sir Roger de Coverley, to the alternate music of pipes and piano, with round games and les jeux innocens, until all hours in the morning. Next day there was a large battue; and soon after dinner the ladies all retired to the duties of a ball-room toilette. Six or seven carriages full left Strathshielie for the Couchfern ball. In the first drove Lady Mac Neil, Lady Lauriston, Julia and Norah; Sir Alastair sitting on the box, his evening costume concealed by a huge tartan plaid, and his good-humoured face buried in the folds, in order that the night air might not cause his appearance with too clarety a complexion. The second carriage conveyed Glenbenrough, Esmé, Ishbel, and Mr. Marchmoram. It was a fine moonlight night, and the