'You are right,' replied that somewhat grim matron; 'and when once this Captain Hammersley, who, to my idea, is somewhat too _èpris_ with her, is gone, you can easily find some pretext for remaining at Craigengowan; or shall I have her with me?' 'As you please,' replied Lady Fettercairn, who knew that the Drumshoddy _mènage_ did not always suit the taste of Finella; 'but I think she is better here--propinquity and all that sort of thing may be productive of good. I know that poor Shafto's mind is quite made up, and, as I said before, she must settle soon. We can't have twenty thousand a year slipping out of the family.' Finella thought little of their wishes or those of Shafto. She thought only of that passionate hour in the lonely drawing-room, where she was alone with Vivian, and his lips were pressed to hers; of the close throb of heart to heart, and that the great secret of her young girl's life was his now and hers no longer, but aware of the opposition and antagonism he would be sure to encounter just then, she urged upon him a caution and a secrecy of the engagement which his proud spirit somewhat resented. He thought it scarcely honourable to take advantage of Lord Fettercairn's hospitality, and gain the love of Finella without his permission; but as both knew that would never be accorded--that to ask for it would cut short his visit, and as he was so soon going on distant service, with Finella he agreed that their engagement should be kept a secret till his return. And to blind the eyes of the watchful or suspicious he actually found himself flirting with one of the Miss Kippilaws, three young ladies who thought they spoke the purest English, though it was with that accent which Basil Hall calls 'the hideous patois of Edinburgh;' and, perceiving this, Lady Fettercairn became somewhat contented, and Finella was excessively amused. Not so the astute Shafto. 'It is all a d----d game!' muttered that young gentleman; 'a red herring drawn across the scent.' 'Why do you look so unhappy, dearest?' asked Finella one evening, when she and her lover found themselves alone for a few minutes, during which she had been contemplating his dark face in silence. 'My leave of absence is running out so fast--by Jove, faster than ever apparently now!' 'Is that the sole reason?' asked the girl softly and after a pause, her dark eyes darkening and seeming to become more intense. 'No,' he replied, with hesitation. 'Tell me, then--what is the other?' 'You know how I love you----' 'And I--you.' 'But in one sense my love is so liable to misconstruction--so hopeless of proof.' 'Hopeless, Vivian--after all I have admitted?' she asked reproachfully. 'I mean because I am almost penniless as compared to you.' 'What does that matter? Surely I have enough for two,' said she, laughing. 'And I fear the bitter opposition of your family.' 'So do I; but don't mind it,' said the independent little beauty.