Ardtaraig

were married, it certainly behoved “Bess,” my mother, as one of a bunch, to look about her, and to fulfill the destiny which then, even more than now, in the case of all properly constituted young women, was to make a suitable and desirable marriage. But no! Through that absurd love of liberty with which she was imbued, and which, in after days, she so faithfully instilled into her daughter, Bess resisted. At last, one valiant man arrived, with ring in pocket, determined to carry off the damsel. He was an Army Captain, a man not easily daunted. Soundly instructed by her parents, poor baited Bess descended to meet her suitor. On her entrance, he advanced with, I suppose, some show of ardour. It was too much – with one startled glance, she turned and fled, up to the sanctuary of her own room, where, in wild haste, she tore off her dress and plunged right into bed! Here indeed was a city of refuge! The Captain was a brave man, but to evict a lady from such a stronghold was a step beyond him. All he could do he did (this according to my mischievous Uncle Andrew), went off to bed himself! Perhaps it was late, but I rather think it was early! The situation, however, in any case, was ludicrous enough; the parents were shocked, indignant, but the fair maid was victorious and the gallant gentleman went off next day.
Aunt Brown and her husband were at the time residing in Liverpool, and what so natural as that mamma should pay her sister a nice long visit! With one of her brothers as an escort, she accordingly, one fine day, galloped off on horseback to Dunoon, the port of departure to all distant places. When passing Dunloskin (the friends there must have had an inkling, though nothing was generally known), she was met by the family on the road, to say good-bye. Mamma was in no mood for words; she never drew rein, but bending down, snatched a rose held out to her by a young lady of the party (a Miss Steel, to whom she was greatly attached), and crushing it into her bosom, was soon out of sight. It was a long farewell, and the joyous period of her girlhood had closed for ever. After many years she again met the lady of the rose – by that time a prosperous wife and mother. In the long ago there had been a love affair between Jean Steel and Uncle Willie, and mamma, in heart and soul their loving friend, had ardently desired their union. But such was never to be; stern Fate had decreed it otherwise. The two ladies, when they once more clasped hands, declared themselves overjoyed to meet again, and diligently set about to revive the past. But it would not do. From what mamma told me, it was like letting the fresh air into some long shut-up vault – the frail remnants of bygone years only crumbled into dust. Both the old friends were, I think, sorry that it should be so, but being by that time women of experience, they sensibly accepted the situation. Mamma was at this period well on in her second marriage, and Mrs Stevenson, grave and ample, with her large grown-up family, was about as prosaic a matron as could well be imagined. Yet there had been tender passages between her and Uncle Willie, and the time of love had been very sweet. Better, far better, had the cold light of an alien day never been let in upon those sacred memories! The Stevensons lived near Bothwell, on the Clyde, and I have a pretty dear recollection of going with mamma to visit them. Mrs Stevenson and her husband have long been dead, and of their descendants I now know nothing.
In Liverpool mamma seems to have had a very good time. When she left Ardtarig she had to part with one little idol, her dear wee brother Johnnie, the youngest of the family, who had come into this world when she was a woman grown. She had mothered, and nursed, and petted him, so that the separation was a great grief to her. In Liverpool there awaited her a new treasure, in the shape of Aunt Brown’s first-born son, the little Colin of those days, who came to her arms as the greatest of blessings. He at once took the place (in a sense), of the absent little brother, and soon had a corner of her heart all to himself. No doubt it was the best balm possible to her then wounded feelings; and also, no doubt, a great help and comfort to Aunt Brown as well, whose family was then steadily on the increase. The young aunt, first of all made for the boy a blue suit, and a blue velvet cap to match, which latter was more than usually necessary, for, pretty child though he was, the little Colin was by no means blest with abundant locks. They grew plentifully later on, but as I remember him, when an old man, he had again to take to the wearing of velvet caps! The tie between his aunt and him was a lasting one, and during his college days my mother’s house in Glasgow was his home. She was then a widow, living in town for the sake of her own little boy’s education. Uncle Andrew, also, made one of her household, he