and considerable indignation of mind. 

 Mr. Henry was in the steward’s room, affecting employment, but I could see he was only impatient to hear of my errand. 

 “Well?” says he, as soon as I came in; and when I had told him something of what passed, and that Jessie seemed an undeserving woman and far from grateful: “She is no friend to me,” said he; “but, indeed, Mackellar, I have few friends to boast of, and Jessie has some cause to be unjust. I need not dissemble what all the country knows: she was not very well used by one of our family.” This was the first time I had heard him refer to the Master even distantly; and I think he found his tongue rebellious even for that much, but presently he resumed—“This is why I would have nothing said. It would give pain to Mrs. Henry . . . and to my father,” he added, with another flush. 

 “Mr. Henry,” said I, “if you will take a freedom at my hands, I would tell you to let that woman be. What service is your money to the like of her? She has no sobriety and no economy—as for gratitude, you will as soon get milk from a whinstone; and if you will pretermit your bounty, it will make no change at all but just to save the ankles of your messengers.” 

 Mr. Henry smiled. “But I am grieved about your ankle,” said he, the next moment, with a proper gravity. 

 “And observe,” I continued, “I give you this advice upon consideration; and yet my heart was touched for the woman in the beginning.” 

 “Why, there it is, you see!” said Mr. Henry. “And you are to remember that I knew her once a very decent lass. Besides which, although I speak little of my family, I think much of its repute.” 

 And with that he broke up the talk, which was the first we had together in such confidence. But the same afternoon I had the proof that his father was perfectly acquainted with the business, and that it was only from his wife that Mr. Henry kept it secret. 

 “I fear you had a painful errand to-day,” says my lord to me, “for which, as it enters in no way among your duties, I wish to thank you, and to remind you at the same time (in case Mr. Henry should have neglected) how very desirable it is that no word of it should reach my daughter. Reflections on the dead, Mr. Mackellar, are doubly painful.” 

 Anger glowed in my heart; and I could have told my lord to his face how little he had to do, bolstering up the image 

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