LITMIR.BIZ

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inn? Talking to us should interest him as much as talking to that soft-headed John, the policeman, or to the sulky Peter Grant, or even to the sing-song Minister. And it would be very pleasant for us, too, with the gentlemen away on the moor all day."

      But again the slow hours of the day passed; and, whatever may have been her secret hopes, her anxious fears, or even, at times, her disposition to be proudly resentful, that width of rough blue water gave no answer to her surreptitiously questioning gaze. There was a fresh westerly breeze blowing; either the smart little cutter or the more cumbrous lugger could have made an easy and rapid passage. However, neither brown sail nor white sail appeared outside the distant headland; and so the afternoon drew on towards evening; and here were the sportsmen come down from the hill, and the dressing-bell about to sound.

      After dinner, when the two young ladies were alone together, Mary said – with a curious affectation of indifference —

      "I did not ask for an answer, Käthchen. Oh, certainly not. There was no answer needed – but still – it seems to me he might have acknowledged the receipt of my note. Of course I am rather anxious to know on what terms we are – naturally – and – and naturally I should like to know whether he absolves me – " She was silent for a moment. When she spoke again she was more honest: there was something of a proud, hurt feeling in her tone. "I do think he might have sent me a message. Don't you, Käthchen? Either yesterday morning or to-day – the whole of to-day has been fine weather. I went out of my way to make the first overtures – after – after what happened. I held out the olive-branch. It seems to me that common courtesy would suggest some little acknowledgment: one is not used to being treated in this way – "

      "Perhaps to-morrow – " suggested Käthchen, vaguely.

      "Oh, if he is not in a hurry, neither am I," said she, with a sudden air of haughty unconcern; and she would have no more said.

      Nay, from this moment she seemed to dismiss Donald Ross from her mind. When, on the following day, Eilean Heimra remained as mute and unresponsive as before, she made no remark to Käthchen; she resolutely dismissed an involuntary habit she had formed of scanning the space of sea intervening between the island and the coast; and if Käthchen mentioned Mr. Ross's name, she would either not reply at all, or reply with a cold indifference, as much as to say, "Who is the stranger whom you speak of?" All the day long she busied herself with her multifarious duties, and was particularly cheerful; in the evening she showed herself most complaisant towards the two young men who were her guests. She talked of giving a ball to the keepers, the gillies, and their friends; and wondered whether there was anywhere a barn big enough for the purpose.

      So time went by; and these four young people occupying Lochgarra House appeared to be as merry and happy as though they had belonged to a certain little band of Florentines of the fourteenth century. For Mary was not always deep-buried in her industrial schemes. Sometimes she and Kate Glendinning would go away up to join the sportsmen at lunch-time; and thereafter, perched high on these sterile and lonely altitudes, she would set to work to add to a series she was forming of sea-views and coast-views – drawings in most of which the horizon-line was close up to the top of the sheet. It is true that in these spacious sketches she had sometimes to include the island of Heimra; but no mention was made of Donald Ross; it was as if he had gone away, and for ever, into some unknown clime. Even Fred Stanley was almost ready to believe that the poaching had ceased; and so there was peace in the land.

      But there came a thunder-clap into this idyllic quiet. One evening, when the two young men returned from their long day on the hill, there was a telegram among the letters on the hall-table. It was for Frank Meredyth. He tore open the envelope.

      "I was afraid of it," he said to his companion. "I must be off, Fred, by the mail-car to-morrow morning. Very sorry, old chap, to have to leave you."

      "I hope it is nothing serious," young Stanley put in, with his grey eyes grown grave.

      "They don't say anything very definite," was the reply. "Only I am summoned, and I must go."

      "Then I will go with you," said the other promptly, "as far as London. This just decides it. I'll accept Nugent's invitation, after all; and if he has started, I'll pick him up at Marseilles. We've seen pretty well what the moor is like; and perhaps some other time my sister asks us down, we may wait on and have a try for a stag or two. Very sorry, though, you must go."

      Dinner that evening, in view of this summons, was rather a sombre affair: it was Käthchen who, when the young men subsequently made their appearance in the drawing-room, suggested they should all go out for a stroll up to the top of the Minard road. She thought this little excursion would remove some of the prevailing constraint. Besides, it promised to be a beautiful moonlight night; and from the summit of the hill they would have a view of the wide southern seas, with the black headlands running out into the shimmering pathway of silver.

      Well, the expedition, so far as pictorial effects were concerned, was entirely successful; but it was not moonlight that was in Frank Meredyth's mind. He was going away on the morrow; he did not know what might happen in his absence; and he thought his departure was a fair and reasonable excuse for his revealing to Mary Stanley certain hopes and aspirations that had gradually, and for some long time back, been taking possession of him. On their way back to the house Fred and Käthchen were walking on in front; the night was still, so that half-murmured words were enough; the surroundings lent a certain charm. And so it came about that Frank Meredyth asked Mary to become his wife.

      Now it cannot be said that the language in which this proposition was couched was quite in accordance with these poetical accessories of moonlit vale, and larch wood, and hill; for the average young Englishman, however honest and sincere he may be, does not express himself fluently on such occasions; probably he would be ashamed of himself if he could and did. Nevertheless, a proposal of marriage, however stumblingly and awkwardly conveyed, is a very serious thing to a young woman; and Mary, startled and frightened, had only the one immediate and overwhelming desire – to postpone the terrible necessity of giving a definite answer. For it was all too bewildering. She wanted to think. To tell the truth, Frank Meredyth's wooing had not been too open and avowed. A man of the world in other things, in this he had been a little shy – one touch of nature among a thousand conventionalities. Then, again, was not a refusal a very cruel thing, that should be administered gently?

      "Oh, Mr. Meredyth," she said, in a very low and rather breathless voice, "I think – I think – this is hardly the time – "

      "But surely it is!" said he. "For I am going away to-morrow morning. And I don't know when I may see you again. And I should like to take with me some little word of hope – something to remember – "

      "Did you see that hare?" Fred Stanley called to them, looking back for a moment.

      Meredyth did not pay much heed to the hare.

      "Perhaps I have asked you too abruptly," he went on, in the same hurried and confused undertone. "Perhaps I am asking too much – that you should say something definite all at once. Very well: I will not press for an answer – I will wait – I will wait – "

      They were emerging from the shadow of the larch trees; before them was an open space of gravel, white in the moonlight, and beyond that rose the grey walls and turrets of Lochgarra House.

      "Only tell me this," said he, in a still lower voice, "tell me if there is any one before me. I have hesitated about speaking earlier because I imagined certain things – perhaps I was mistaken – at least you will tell me that – tell me if there is some one else – "

      "No," said Mary, as they crossed that space of white moonlight, and perhaps she spoke a little proudly. "That – at least – I can assure you – "

      "No one?" he said, eagerly, in the same undertone.

      But here they were at the house – with Fred and Käthchen waiting for them on the grey stone terrace: these two had turned to look at the wonderful beauty of the night.

      CHAPTER III

      A FORECAST

      Now, among the numerous undertakings on which the young proprietress of Lochgarra had set her heart was the establishment of a Public Reading-room and Free Library; and to that

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