"I think you are going now to see our lassie," said Marget, smiling slyly, "and sure, Jackie, if ever man had recompense in the sweetness of love ’tis you. Never have I seen anything sae near an angel of light in spirit and sae beautiful in body, since she came up the hill to us that evening with her doubts all gone; ay, it is Tammas and I who are as happy as you, Jackie!" She sighed. "I dinna ken that it’s a’ gladness," she went on; "for the Earl is preparing to leave soon for his estate in the auld country, and he wants us to gang wi’ him—of course—but—" and she looked at me gravely as if seeking answer. But I only shook my head sadly. "I do not know, Marget—I do not know. My plans—you see—Aunt Lucretia and Eloise—that awful accident!" Marget started to speak, but Tammas stopped her quickly, whispering to her, "Wheest, wumman, dinna ye see, dinna ye understaun—she was as his ain sister. It’s that that’s saddening him." And then he added louder, "Eh, but it was a terrible thing—she that was sae young an’ daring and sae bonnie—to be an invalid a’ her days—the bold beautiful thing that loved life sae weel! An’ it’s a’ but upset the Earl. I hae never kent him to be sae troubled, for he was unco fond o’ her, an’ a grand Countess she wad hae made him. An’ to think it was his ain horse! The puir man is nearly daft!" I was silent. I could not speak. For once the kindly talk of these two good folks annoyed me. Marget saw this, and with a motherly tenderness that touched me deeply, said, "Weel—weel, Jackie, dinna take it sae to heart. When you go to her ain land an’ see what you have won in oor lassie, ye’ll be sayin’ with Rabbie Burns that ’tis the only place to live and love in. But awa’ ye gang," she said, giving me a gentle push; "it’s near supper time a’ ready an’ fine I ken that she an’ the Earl are wanting ye at The Manor. For three days she has come ower here, wondering whit wey ye had na come; she kens aboot the accident an’ is sorrowfu’, tae, but she’s sae keen to see ye, Jackie, an’ she’ll be a bit o’ comfort till ye if ye will." Colonel Goff was already making preparations for his going. I found him more quiet and serious than I had ever seen him. I understood that he would give anything in the world to undo the accident, and that he now found that he cared more for Eloise since she was lost to us than he had himself known, and that, like me, he was in total ignorance as to where Aunt Lucretia had taken her. "Jack, Jack!" he kept repeating as he walked the floor, "I can never forgive myself! That beastly, beastly ride! To have loved horses as I have all my life, to have done so much for them and their sport and to have my pride in them all thrown away and the whole of my life changed like that! ... There is Elsie—go with her, Jack—the child wants you!" he added as he headed towards his stable.