 to their parents. In
a novel, the young people may fall in love without their countenance, because it
is essential to the necessary intricacy of the story; but they must always have
the benefit of their consent at last. Even old Delville received Cecilia, though
the daughter of a man of low birth.«
    »And even so, madam,« replied I, »Lady Margaret was pro vailed on to
countenance Morton, although the old Covenanter, his father, stuck sorely with
her for some time. Edith was her only hope, and she wished to see her happy.
Morton, or Melville Morton, as he was more generally called, stood so high in
the reputation of the world, and was in every other respect such an eligible
match, that she put her prejudice aside, and consoled herself with the
recollection, that marriage went by destiny, as was observed to her, she said,
by his most sacred Majesty, Charles the Second of happy memory, when she showed
him the portrait of her grandfather Fergus, third Earl of Torwood, the
handsomest man of his time, and that of Countess Jane, his second Lady, who had
a humpback and only one eye. This was his Majesty's observation, she said, on
one remarkable morning when he deigned to take his disjune« --
    »Nay,« said Miss Buskbody, again interrupting me, »if she brought such
authority to countenance her acquiescing in a misalliance, there was no more to
be said. - And what became of old Mrs. What's-her-name, the housekeeper?«
    »Mrs. Wilson, madam?« answered I. »She was perhaps the happiest of the
party; for once a-year, and not oftener, Mr. and Mrs. Melville Morton dined in
the great wainscoted chamber in solemn state, - the hangings being all
displayed, the carpet laid down, and the huge brass candlestick set on the
table, stuck round with leaves of laurel. The preparing the room for this yearly
festival employed her mind for six months before it came about, and the putting
matters to rights occupied old Alison the other six; so that a single day of
rejoicing found her business for all the year round.«
    »And Neil Blane?« said Miss Buskbody.
    »Lived to a good old age, drank ale and brandy with guests of all
persuasions, played whig or jacobite tunes as best pleased his customers, and
died worth as much money as married Jenny to a cock laird. I hope, ma'am, you
have no other
