"It is a wonderful thing, the affection and devotion that could bring an old woman like that all the way across the Atlantic for a glimpse of one she had known only as a child. And it seems to be a thing you cannot purchase with money, nor yet with good intentions, nor by anything you can do, however hard you may try." She turned away from the window. "But—but I haven’t given up yet, Käthchen." "You never will give up, Mamie," said her friend; and then she added complacently: "For you don’t know how." CHAPTER II. A DEFORCEMENT. But wonders will never cease. It was a couple of days after these occurrences, and Mary Stanley and Kate Glendinning were just about to sit down to lunch, when the Highland maid Barbara came into the room, with a curious expression on her face. And it was in almost awe-stricken tones that she spoke: "It’s Mr. Ross, mem," said she—her pretty, soft, shy eyes now full of a vague astonishment. "Mr. Ross?—Mr. Ross of Heimra? Well, what about him?" Mary demanded, little guessing at the true state of affairs. "He’s in the hall, mem," said the startled Barbara. "He says would Miss Stanley speak with him for a moment, and he would not keep you more than a moment, mem." The blood rushed to Mary’s forehead, and for a second she was embarrassed and speechless; then, with a certain impatience of her own confusion, she said— "Well, ask Mr. Ross to go into the drawing-room, Barbara—and tell him I will be there directly." She turned quickly to her friend. "Käthchen, would you mind going and speaking to him?—I shall be down in a minute." Possibly Käthchen did not quite like this commission; but then she was in the habit of reflecting that as a salaried companion she had duties to perform; and so with much good nature she went away into the drawing-room, to receive this unexpected visitor. It was some minutes before Mary reappeared. The male eye could not have detected any difference between the Mary Stanley of the dining-room and the Mary Stanley of the drawing-room; but Käthchen instantly perceived the minute alteration. Mary had whipped off to her room to exchange the stiff linen collar that she wore for a piece of soft frilling—a more feminine adornment. Moreover, she came into the room, not radiant in her beauty and self-possessed as was her wont, but with a kind of timid, modest, almost shamefaced gratitude for this act of neighbourliness, and in her clear eyes a manifest pleasure shone. Käthchen, now relieved of her duties, and become a mere onlooker, said to herself: "I don’t know what Mamie means; but that young man had better take care." He, on his side, certainly showed no lack of self-possession—though he still remained standing, his yachting cap in his hand. "I hope I am not inconveniencing you," said he to Miss Stanley. "The fact is, we got becalmed just outside the bay——"