'You have done me a world of good by your great kindness of heart to me, Finella--oh, I beg your pardon--Miss Melfort I mean--the name escaped me,' exclaimed Dulcie, covered with confusion. 'Call me always Finella,' said the other emphatically. 'Oh, I dare not do so before Lady Fettercairn.' 'Then do so at other times, Dulcie. You talk of doing you good--I do not believe anyone could have the heart to do you harm.' 'Why?' 'You seem so good--so pure, so simple. Oh, I do love you, Dulcie!' she exclaimed, with true girlish effusiveness. 'I thank you very much; and yet we think you Scotch folks are cold and stiff.' '_We_--who?' 'The English, I mean.' 'They must be like the Arab who had never seen the world, and thought it must be all his father's tent,' said Finella laughing; 'the insular, untravelled English, I mean.' 'Such kindness is delightful to a lonely creature like me. I have fortunately only myself to work for, however.' 'And no one else to think of?' 'Oh--yes--yes,' said the girl sadly and passionately; 'but he is far, far away, and every day seems to make the void in my heart deeper, the ache keener, the silence more hard to bear.' 'Our emotions seem somehow the same,' said Finella, after a pause. Then thinking that she had perhaps admitted too much, or laid a secret uselessly bare, Dulcie blushed, and thought to change the subject by saying reflectively, 'How many great and pleasant things one might do if one had the chance of doing so; but such chances never come in my way, for every change with me has been for the worse.' 'Not, I hope, in coming to Craigengowan?' 'Oh no; they are painful matters I refer to. First, I lost my dear papa, and was thereby cast on the world penniless. Since then I have lost one who loved me quite as well as papa did.' 'Another?' said Finella inquiringly. 'Yes; but let me not speak of that,' replied Dulcie hastily, and colouring deeply again; so Finella, like a lady, thought to drop the subject, but somehow, with the instinctive curiosity of her sex, unconsciously revived it again, after a time. Dulcie, however, perhaps forgetting her present position, and remembering chiefly her old acquaintance with Shafto, was mystified. She thought 'the cousins' were free to marry, so why don't they? If engaged, they act strangely to each other--Finella to him especially--thus she said:-- 'Is there anything between Mr. Shafto and you, Finella?' 'Yes,' replied the latter, growing pale with anger. 'What is it?' 'Hatred on my part!' 'And on his?' 'Pretended love and--and--avarice. He knows I am rich.' 'But why hatred?' asked Dulcie, without surprise. 'That is my secret, Dulcie.' 'I beg your pardon, I have no right to question you. Surely you are one of those people who always get what they wish for.' 'Why?--for riches do not always give happiness.' 'I mean because you are so good and sweet.' But Finella shook her pretty head sadly as she thought of Vivian Hammersley, and replied: