But how was Sheila to go to her father and explain to him what she could not explain to herself? She had never dreamed of marriage. She had never thought of having to leave Borva and her father’s house. But she had some vague feeling that in the future lay many terrible possibilities that she did not as yet dare to look at--until, at least, she was more satisfied as to the present. And how could she go to her father with such a chaos of unformed wishes and fears to place before him? That such a duty should have devolved upon Ingram was certainly odd enough, but it was not her doing. His knowledge of the position of these young people was not derived from her. But, having got it, he had himself asked her to leave the whole affair in his hands, with that kindness and generosity which had more than once filled her heart with an unspeakable gratitude toward him. “Well, you _are_ a good fellow!” said Lavender to him, when he heard of this decision. “Bah!” said the other with a shrug of his shoulders, “I mean to amuse myself. I shall move you about like pieces on a chess-board, and have a pretty game with you. How to checkmate the king with a knight and a princess in any number of moves you like--that is the problem; and my princess has a strong power over the king where she is just now.” “It’s an uncommonly awkward business, you know, Ingram,” said Lavender, ruefully. “Well, it is. Old Mackenzie is a tough old fellow to deal with, and you’ll do no good by making a fight of it. Wait! Difficulties don’t look so formidable when you take them one by one as they turn up. If you really love the girl, and mean to take your chance of getting her, and if she cares enough for you to sacrifice a good deal for your sake, there is nothing to fear.” “I can answer for myself, anyway,” said Lavender, in a tone of voice that Ingram rather liked; the young man did not always speak with the same quietness, thoughtfulness, and modesty. And how naturally and easily it came about, after all! They were back again at Borva. They had driven around and about Lewis, and had finished up with Stornoway; and, now that they had got back to the island in Loch Roag, the quaint little drawing-room had, even to Lavender, a homely and friendly look. The big stuffed fishes and the sponge shells were old acquaintances; and he went to hunt up Sheila’s music just as if he had known that dusky corner for years. “Yes, yes,” called Mackenzie, “it iss the English songs we will try now.”