"Yes," she said, instantly turning from the window. "What is it? Is there anything I can do, Käthchen? It seems so terrible—and so shameful; and here am I helpless. And then he is so proud—yes, proud and disdainful; I have said it before; only this time he has an ample right to be." "Well, Mamie, if I were you, I would simply take no notice of what happened yesterday afternoon;" this was Käthchen’s advice. "I would assume that the friendly relations between him and you were precisely as they always had been." "Yes, but how to let him know that that is what I am thinking?" said Mary eagerly—and rather piteously withal. "I would send him a note," said the intrepid Käthchen. "About what?" "About anything!" "Shall I ask him to come over and dine with us?" Mary asked, rather nervously. "Well, no: that would be useless; he would not accept—at present," Käthchen made answer. "But indeed, Mamie, I would not send him any invitation, nor would I say anything that needed an answer: I should write so that he might answer or not just as he pleased." "Yes, yes," said Mary, with some animation. "Your advice is excellent, Käthchen. I will write at once. And about what? Oh, about kelp. I have got all the information I wanted about the burning of kelp; and I will tell him that any time he comes over to the mainland I should like to show him the report." And then as abruptly she discarded this idea. "No. Kelp is too common-place. It would be like asking for his advice about something connected with the estate; and I want him to understand that I can get on by myself. Oh, I’ll tell you, Käthchen!—the photographs!—the photographs I promised to send to Mrs. Armour. You know how proud he was of the old woman’s coming all the way from Canada to have but a glimpse of Young Donald; and I could see how he was pleased by the little attentions I was able to show her—quite grateful he seemed—though you know he doesn’t say much." She was all excitement now, and as happy and sanguine as hitherto she had been despondent. She went and got writing materials forthwith, and hastily, and yet with some consideration, penned this note:— "Lochgarra House, Tuesday Morning. "Dear Mr. Ross,—I do not know whether I told you that, before Mrs. Armour left to return to Canada, I promised to send her a series of photographs of Lochgarra and the neighbourhood. I am arranging to have a photographer come through from Inverness, and any time that you happen to be over here I should be exceedingly obliged if you would spare me a few minutes to let me know what places would be likely to prove most interesting to her. "Yours sincerely, "MARY STANLEY."