Presently Mary appeared, descending the stairs. Wallowby secured her book as she reached the landing, and placed himself at her side; and Peter, not to be cut out, had to make a dash for her parasol on the stand, and so constitute himself a third in the party. They set forth, and when Mrs. Sangster got down stairs she beheld to her disgust Mary Brown disappearing in the shrubbery attended by both the squires. 'Bother that lassie!' she muttered, but whether it was her own daughter or the other will never be known. At that moment Sophia, in perfect tranquility, was still giving her orders in the kitchen for the family dinner. Mr. Sangster kept his room. He often did so of a Sunday, for the time had not yet arrived when a godly divine should stigmatize taking medicine on Sunday as a form of Sabbath breaking. Eventually Sophia was ready to start, and at the same moment the two ministers appeared. Mrs. Sangster was of course taken possession of by the elder, and there was nothing for it but to let the ineligible escort Sophia. There was consolation then in remembering how slow and safe she was. No fear of _her_ being hurried into an entangling admission during one moorland walk, but 'Oh! if Providence had only seen fit to grant her a bright lively girl like Mary Brown!' No misgiving oppressed the soul of Roderick. The Sabbath in any case was to him a day of holy calm, whose devout associations he had cultivated by long habit into a sacred joy. To-day these were exhausted by the surroundings. The sunshine on the hills seemed to bring him into the very presence of a loving creator, and the companion by his side was one whose image in his thoughts had long stood for the embodiment of the good and beautiful. It was no vulgar love-making that he poured forth as they walked along, but the enthusiastic utterances of a devout young heart brimming over with piety and content. And she? She looked up in his face and softly smiled. No need for words, the light in her eye spoke more eloquently than poets had ever sung. Poor youth! That light had shone as brightly and the smile had been as sweet--less vague and more intelligent--when a little while before she stood at the kitchen table and bade the cook put ten eggs instead of twelve in the custard for dinner. Yet she really liked Roderick Brown. He was so good and so kind. She had known him all her life, and she knew that he admired her. He did not exactly say so, in fact she did not expect that, it would have been too frivolous; but his voice grew softer when he spoke to her, his eyes glowed, and his pale face would sometimes flush. She did not understand much of what he said, but she knew she was not clever, and was content it should be so. It was 'nice' to hear him talk about heaven in his earnest eloquent way; it sounded all so real, and she felt always more sure of going there when she was with him--he was so good.