Lewis stood before her, with the smile still upon his face, observing her very slowly, wondering, if she knew who he was, whether she would consider him as a clever lad who had bettered himself. He could not have gazed so, without offence, into a younger face; as it was, his fixed look made Miss Margaret smile. To blush for anything so young a man could do, she would have thought beneath her dignity. "You think what I am saying is very strange?" she said. "Oh, no; it is very just, I think," he cried; but at this moment Mr. Dunlop, the young assistant at Braehead, came forward to offer Miss Margaret his arm. Lewis offered his to Miss Jean. "This is not wrong?" he said. "One does not require to wait to be told?" "But I am sure a young lady would be more to your taste," said Miss Jean, smiling benignly. "Never mind me; I will go in in time. And look at all these pretty creatures waiting for somebody." But Lewis continued to stand with one arm held out, with his hat under the other, and the bow which some thought so French, but the Miss Murrays considered to be of the old school. Miss Jean accepted his escort in spite of herself. She said, "I would like to hear you play the rest of _yon_ upon our old piano. It was a very good piano in its day, but, like its mistress, it is getting old now." "A good instrument is like a lady; it does not get old like a common thing. It is always sweet," said Lewis. "I will come with--happiness." An Englishman, of course, would have said with pleasure, but these little slips on the part of Lewis, which were sometimes half intentional, were all amply covered by his accent. "I will play to you as much as you please," he added. "I have nothing here to do." "But you came for the trout?" said Miss Jean. "No, no, I will not take you from the trout. My sister Margaret would never hear of that. But when the fishing is over, perhaps----" "I am no fisher. I sit and watch while Adam struggles with the trout; it amuses me. But abroad, I suppose, we are less out of doors than in England. Mr. Stormont tells me we may expect a great many wet days, and what shall I have to do? May I come and play Beethoven during the wet days?" "We will see what Margaret says," said Miss Jean, a little alarmed lest she should be going too far. Miss Margaret was on the other side of the table. He looked at her with a great deal of interest. She was a dark-eyed woman, looking older than her age, with hair which had a suspicion of grey in it. Miss Jean had no grey hairs. Her cheek was a little hollow, but that was almost the only sign of age in her. But they dressed beyond their years, and were quite retired among the matrons, neither of them making the slightest claim to youth. "Miss Margaret is your elder sister?" he said, with an ingratiating openness. "Pardon me, if I am very full of curiosity. I have seen your old castle, and I met you once upon the road; but there were then three ladies----?"