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Updated: June 3, 2025
Gregory Kinnaird was well-favored physically, and bore the stamp of a military training. He was, she understood, captain of a rather famous regiment, and she liked his direct gaze, which did not detract from his easy suavity of manner. However, he appeared somewhat unusually diffident that evening.
The old lady appeared relieved when the spinster was out of her sight. 'I don't know ye, gentlemen, but perhaps now my mither's not here, ye'll tell me who it was that rang the door-bell a while since. The men hesitated. They were neither of them ready with inventions. She leaned towards the doctor, strangely excited. 'Was it Mr. Kinnaird? she whispered.
Peg was enjoying herself hugely, beyond all doubt. From where she sat she could see the whole church, including pulpit and gallery, and her black eyes darted over it with restless glances. "Bless me, there's Sam Kinnaird," she exclaimed, still aloud. "He's the man that dunned Jacob Marr for four cents on the church steps one Sunday. I heard him.
Though she liked him, Gregory Kinnaird had, however, passed out of her life. There was a good deal he could have offered her, but, after all, she had almost as much already in Canada, and it had become suddenly clear to her, outside of a London ballroom one evening, that to like the man one would have to live with was by no means going far enough.
Miss Sirkar, a graduate now teaching in Kinnaird College, Lahore, has determined to leave her life within college walls, to move into the little house in the isolated village, and there on one third of her present salary to devote her trained abilities to the solution of rural problems. It is a new venture for an unmarried woman.
'Now tell me when ye first saw Mr. Kinnaird? asked the maid. But to this there was no answer.
This was a little, lean, and fiery man, with the eyes of a dog and the face of a gipsy; whom I found one morning encamped with his wife and children and his grinder's wheel, beside the burn of Kinnaird. His children were mere whelps, they fought and bit among the fern like vermin.
"In your country you wouldn't think of regarding him as anything else. Doesn't being an artist emancipate one from the conventional point of view?" "No," replied Miss Kinnaird reflectively, "it doesn't, that is, when you do not paint for your living which, of course, alters everything."
The High Bailiff opened the proceedings, and the following candidates were proposed by their separate friends: Sir Francis Burdett, Sir Murray Maxwell, Sir Samuel Romilly, Major Cartwright, Mr. Douglas Kinnaird, and myself. Upon the show of hands being taken, the High Bailiff declared it to be in favour of Henry Hunt, Esq. and Sir Samuel Romilly.
"Major Kinnaird was a flag officer of a rather famous yacht club," said the lady, who, while she fancied that her companion meant to avoid the issue, could not let this pass. She was, however, mistaken in one respect, for Stirling usually was much more ready to plunge into a controversy than to back out of it.
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