And indeed it was not until the self-appointed commission had done its work, and Mr. Purdie had gone away to the south again, that young Ross of Heimra reappeared: he said he had heard of what had been arranged; and he thought Miss Stanley had been most generous. This casual encounter took place just as Mary and Kate Glendinning were nearing Lochgarra House; and when they had gone inside, Käthchen said— "Well, I don’t know what has come over you, Mamie. You used always to be so self-possessed—to seem as if you were conferring a favour by merely looking at anyone. And now, when you stand for a few minutes talking to Mr. Ross, you are quite nervous and shamefaced—and apparently anxious for the smallest sign of approval——" "You have far too much imagination, Käthchen," said Mary, as she went off to her own room. And then again, that same night, Käthchen was at one of the windows, looking out. She could not distinguish anything, for it was quite dark; she could only hear the wind howling in from the sea. "Do you know where you should be at this moment, Mamie?" she said. "You ought to be going up the grand staircase of some great opera-house—your cloak of crimson velvet, white-furred—the diamonds in your hair shining through your lace hood—and you should have at least three gentlemen to escort you to your box, carrying opera-glasses, and flowers. That’s more like you. And yet here you banish yourself away to this out-of-the-world place—you seek for no amusement—you busy yourself all day about peats, and drains, and seed-potatoes—and the highest reward you set before yourself is to get a half-hearted ’Thank you’ from a sulky crofter——" "Käthchen," said Mary, "I would advise you to read the third chapter of the General Epistle of James." "Ah, well," said Käthchen—and she was not deeply offended by that hint about the bridling of the tongue—"wait till your brother and Mr. Frank Meredyth come up—and you’ll find them saying the same thing. Philanthropy is all very well; but you need not make yourself a white slave." And then she turned to the black window again, and to her visions. "There’s one thing, Mamie: I wish Mr. Ross could see you going up that grand staircase." CHAPTER IV. HER GUEST.