When Sheila, as already described, came into the room, and found her old friend there, the resolution she had formed went clean out of her mind. She forgot entirely the ban that had been placed on Ingram by her husband. But after her first emotion on seeing him was over, and when he began to discuss what she ought to do, and even to advise her in a diffident sort of way, she remembered all that she had forgotten, and was ashamed to find herself sitting there and talking to him as if it were in her father's house at Borva. Indeed, when he proposed to take the management of her affairs into his own hands, and to go and look at certain apartments that Paterson had proposed, she was forced, with great heart-burning and pain, to hint to him that she could not avail herself of his kindness. "But why?" he asked with a stare of surprise. "You remember Brighton," she answered, looking down. "You had a bad return for your kindness to me then." "Oh, I know," he said carelessly. "And I suppose Mr. Lavender wished you to cut me after my impertinent interference. But things are very much changed now. But for the time he went North, he has been with me nearly every hour since you left." "Has Frank been to the Lewis?" she said suddenly, with a look of fear on her face. "Oh no: he has only been to Glasgow to see if you had gone to catch the Clansman and go North from there." "Did he take the trouble to do all that?" she asked slowly and wistfully. "Trouble!" cried Ingram. "He appears to me neither to eat nor sleep day or night, but to go wandering about in search of you in every place where he fancies you may be. I never saw a man so beside himself with anxiety." "I did not wish to make him anxious," said Sheila in a low voice. "Will you tell him that I am well?" Mrs. Lavender began to smile. Were there not evident signs of softening? But Ingram, who knew the girl better, was not deceived by these appearances. He could see that Sheila merely wished that her husband should not suffer pain on her account: that was all. "I was about to ask you," he said gently, "what I may say to him. He comes to me continually, for he has always fancied that you would communicate with me. What shall I say to him, Sheila?" "You may tell him that I am well," she answered. Mairi had by this time stepped out of the room. Sheila sat with her eyes fixed on the floor, her fingers working nervously with a paper-knife she held. "Nothing more than that?" he said. "Nothing more." He saw by her face, and he could tell by the sound of her voice, that her decision was resolute.