We found the party in the hay-field augmented by all farmer Wilson’s family, namely, his wife, with a Mrs. and Miss Heartley, their boarders and lodgers, to whom Malcolm introduced us with an eagerness of good-will and pleasure which was flattering to me. The tender greetings between those ladies and Mary, evidently proved that I had communicated more of joy and gladness than I had foreseen, by my interference; and as this was the case, I took my share of the general satisfaction, which appeared like the sky, _cloudless_. Mrs. Wilson soon restored us to order, by leading us to seats under a hay-cock, and began to distribute amongst us a syllabub milked from the cow, with some fruit and cakes. Sir Murdock, who had appeared placid, though silent, suddenly turning to his son, desired him to change seats with him. This request was indulged with alacrity, and he placed his father next Mrs. Heartley. “How often of late,” said the poor baronet, surveying her with a melancholy air, “have I wished to have the opportunity of telling you, that Sir Murdock Maclairn esteems and reverences you for your unremitting kindnesses and consideration for his Malcolm. Yet now I am near you, language fails me; I am oppressed by my feelings. Recollections too painful for me meet this hour of peace and restored happiness.” He took her hand and burst into tears. Mrs. Heartley, with much emotion and confusion, said something of her hopes of being still favoured with his good opinion, and of her satisfaction at seeing her worthy neighbour. He caught the last word of her incoherent speech. “Yes,” replied he, “I hope we shall be _neighbours_ as well as _friends_! My sufferings are terminated. Witness this hour of peace! Witness the mercy which has sent me an angel of consolation!”—He gazed wildly on my face; and sinking his head between his knees and hands, he murmured out “Matilda! sainted, blessed Matilda!” I was alarmed.—“It will be momentary,” said the agitated Malcolm, in a low voice, “be not disturbed!” He was not mistaken, for in a few minutes Sir Murdock’s serenity was restored; and he asked Miss Heartley, in a manner which marked that he had no consciousness of his late disorder, some questions relative to her brother who was in the East-Indies. She replied; and the baronet, with renewed cheerfulness and an expressive smile, said, “And what excuse will you make to ‘this dear brother,’ when he knows you have monopolized a heart which he ought to share?” A deep blush was the only answer to this question, which awakened my curiosity. I was however called from further observation by being asked for a song; but willing to make the conversation more general, I alledged that I was too angry to sing; and, with assumed resentment, I reproached the captain’s want of discretion as well as courage in bringing into the field so many witnesses of my weakness, and so many guards against his own. “You wrong your gallant, by your suspicions, Miss Cowley,” answered Mrs. Heartley, with ease and spirit. “But what will he answer to my reproaches? He has been my slave these twenty years and more, and yet had the audacity to conceal this assignation from me. I am indebted to my friend Mr. Malcolm for the intelligence of my danger; and I now see it,” added she, laughing; “yet, woman to the last, I will maintain my rights to him against youth and beauty.”—A certain mode of expression, with the correct gaiety and ease of her manners, soon attached me to this lady’s side; and in our walk home she apparently slackened her pace, the more unnoticedly to converse with me.—“You will think me very deficient in the rules of good breeding,” said she, when entering the road to the hall, “on finding that I neglect to pay you my respects at Sir Murdock’s house; but I do not visit the family. My avowed affection and long intimacy with Mrs. Howard, and my still longer acquaintance with Captain Flint, have laid me under indelible disgrace with Miss Flint. Lady Maclairn’s situation, and the circumstances of distress under which she has lived, have precluded all approaches to her of a personal kind. You will therefore, I trust, accept of this apology for my not waiting on you and your friend. Yet,” continued she, smiling, “you must not imagine me a woman too obscure for Miss Flint’s notice. In her zeal for her neighbours’ good behaviour, she has thought proper to single me out as an object to be feared and shunned by all modest women. There is, however, a conduct, Miss Cowley, that will refute malice and silence slander, without calling out either resentment or reproach.