Poor boy, he had never shown much gratitude, but he had forgotten nothing, literally nothing.
Christie was quite overcome with this unexpected trait; she drew him gently to her bosom, and wept over him; and it was sweet to see a brother and sister treat each other almost like lovers, as these two began to do--they watched each other's eye so tenderly.
This new care kept the sister in her own house all the next day; but toward the evening Jean, who knew her other anxiety, slipped in and offered to take her place for an hour by Flucker's side; at the same time she looked one of those signals which are too subtle for any but woman to understand.
Christie drew her aside, and learned that Gatty and his mother were just coming through from Leith; Christie ran for her eighty pounds, placed them in her bosom, cast a hasty glance at a looking-glass, little larger than an oyster-shell, and ran out.
"Hech! What pleased the auld wife will be to see he has a lass that can mak auchty pund in a morning." This was Christie's notion.
At sight of them she took out the banknotes, and with eyes glistening and cheeks flushing she cried: "Oh, Chairles, ye'll no gang to jail--I hae the siller!" and she offered him the money with both hands, and a look of tenderness and modesty that embellished human nature.
Ere he could speak, his mother put out her hand, and not rudely, but very coldly, repelling Christie's arm, said in a freezing manner: "We are much obliged to you, but my son's own talents have rescued him from his little embarrassment." "A nobleman has bought my picture," said Gatty, proudly.
"For one hundred and fifty pounds," said the old lady, meaning to mark the contrast between that sum and what Christie had in her hand.
Christie remained like a statue, with her arms extended, and the bank-notes in her hand; her features worked--she had much ado not to cry; and any one that had known the whole story, and seen this unmerited repulse, would have felt for her; but her love came to her aid, she put the notes in her bosom, sighed and said: "I would hae likeit to hae been the first, ye ken, but I'm real pleased." "But, mother," said Gatty, "it was very kind of Christie all the same.
Oh, Christie!" said he, in a tone of despair.
At this kind word Christie's fortitude was sore tried; she turned away her head; she was far too delicate to let them know who had sent Lord Ipsden to buy the picture.
While she turned away, Mrs.Gatty said in her son's ear: "Now, I have your solemn promise to do it here, and at once; you will find me on the beach behind these boats--do it." The reader will understand that during the last few days Mrs.Gatty had improved her advantage, and that Charles had positively consented to obey her; the poor boy was worn out with the struggle--he felt he must have peace or die; he was thin and pale, and sudden twitches came over him; his temperament was not fit for such a battle; and, it is to be observed, nearly all the talk was on one side.

He had made one expiring struggle--he described to his mother an artist's nature; his strength, his weakness--he besought her not to be a slave to general rules, but to inquire what sort of a companion the individual Gatty needed; he lashed with true but brilliant satire the sort of wife his mother was ready to see him saddled with--a stupid, unsympathizing creature, whose ten children would, by nature's law, be also stupid, and so be a weight on him till his dying day.

He painted Christie Johnstone, mind and body, in words as true and bright as his colors; he showed his own weak points, her strong ones, and how the latter would fortify the former.
He displayed, in short, in one minute, more intellect than his mother had exhibited in sixty years; and that done, with all his understanding, wit and eloquence, he succumbed like a child to her stronger will--he promised to break with Christie Johnstone.
When Christie had recovered her composure and turned round to her companions, she found herself alone with Charles.
"Chairles," said she, gravely.
"Christie," said he, uneasily.
"Your mother does na like me.

Oh, ye need na deny it; and we are na together as we used to be, my lad." "She is prejudiced; but she has been the best of mothers to me, Christie." "Aweel." "Circumstances compel me to return to England." (Ah, coward! anything but the real truth!) "Aweel, Chairles, it will no be for lang." "I don't know; you will not be so unhappy as I shall--at least I hope not." "Hoow do ye ken that ?" "Christie, do you remember the first night we danced together ?" "Ay." "And we walked in the cool by the seaside, and I told you the names of the stars, and you said those were not their real names, but nicknames we give them here on earth.

I loved you that first night." "And I fancied you the first time I set eyes on you." "How can I leave you, Christie?
What shall I do ?" "I ken what I shall do," answered Christie coolly; then, bursting into tears, she added, "I shall dee! I shall dee!" "No! you must not say so; at least I will never love any one but you." "An' I'll live as I am a' my days for your sake.