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Updated: June 6, 2025
Linwood's perfections," said the young lady, with a gay smile. "He has one great fault," observed Mrs. Brahan; "he keeps you too close a prisoner, my dear. I fear he is very selfish. Tell him so from me; for he must not expect to monopolize a jewel formed to adorn and beautify the world." She spoke sportively, benignantly, without knowing the deep truth of her words.
From Novar we went to Brahan, where everything is as lively as usual, and Seaforth in great force,... I then joined Lord Kingsdown at Foss, on Loch Tummel, a delightful place in the centre of the Perthshire Highlands, where you see all Scotland at your feet, from Ben Nevis to Lochnagar.
It was my father's glowing sketch on which I was gazing, that father whom I had so recently met, a criminal, evading the demands of justice; a man who had lost all his original brightness, a being of sin and misery. Mrs. Brahan rang for water; but I did not faint. "I have taken a long walk this morning," I said, "and your rooms are warm. I feel better, now. And this house belonged to the artist?
Then it suddenly flashed into my mind, that it might be some one who brought tidings of Ernest, some one who had met the "Star of the East," on his homeward voyage. There was nothing wild in the idea, and when I mentioned it to Mrs. Brahan, she said it was possible, and that I had better go down. Supposing it was a messenger of evil! I felt as if I had borne all I could bear, and live.
Thence to Brahan. On the 31st, pic-nic to the Falls of Rogie, with Lord Blandford playing on the bugle. September 1st. To Raith. 7th, to Arniston. 10th, to Ancrum, Kirklands. 16th, to see Harriet Martineau at Ambleside. 18th. Home. September 22nd. Torry Hill. 23rd, excursion to Margate races, with Lord Kingsdown. Shooting at Torry Hill. Mr. Richardson died at Kirklands on October 4th.
Brahan threw any new light on the dark relationship; though removed from the vicinity of the dismal Tombs, the dark, gigantic walls cast their lengthening shadow over the fresh green fields and blossoming meadows, and dimmed the glory of the landscape. The shadow of the Tombs met the shadow in my heart, and together they produced a chill atmosphere.
Brahan accompanied me to the chamber prepared for my reception; and had I been her own daughter she could not have lavished upon me more affectionate cares. The picture of my mother, which I had returned when we left the city, was hanging on the wall; and the eyes and lips of heavenly sweetness seemed to welcome her sad descendant to the home of her infancy.
Brahan entered; and though it had been seventeen years since he had seen him, he immediately recognized the artist he had so much admired. "I have found a daughter, sir," said St. James, grasping his hand with fervor. He could not add another word, and no other was necessary. "I told her so," cried Mr. Brahan, after expressing the warmest congratulations; "I told her husband so.
Whenever I went into society, I realized the distinction of being the wife of the rich and exclusive Ernest Linwood, the mistress of the oriental palace, as Mrs. Brahan called our dwelling-place. I always found myself flattered and caressed, and perhaps something was owing to personal attraction.
I feel interested in his story." "I wish Mr. Brahan were here; but I will tell you all I recollect. It was a long time ago; and what we hear from others of individuals in whom we have no personal interest, is soon forgotten. Do you really feel better? Well, I believe St. James, the artist, was a highly accomplished, gifted man. He was married to a beautiful young wife, and I think had one child.
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