"Well, at least, pappy, I never thought you would turn against me," said she, as she put her head partly aside, and made a mouth as if she were about to cry; "and when mamma made you promise to look after Carry and me, I am sure she never thought--" Now this was too much for Mr. White. In the small eyes behind the big gold spectacles there was a quick flash of fire. "Don't be a fool, Gerty!" said he, in downright anger. "You know it is no use your trying to humbug me. If you think the ways of this house are too poor and mean for your grand notions of state--if you think he has not enough money, and you are not likely to have fine dinners and entertainments for your friends--if you are determined to break off the match--why, then do it! but, I tell you, don't try to humbug me!" Miss White's pathetic attitude suddenly vanished. She drew herself up with much dignity and composure, and said, "At all events, sir, I have been taught my duty to you; and I think it better not to answer you." With that she moved off toward the house; and Mr. White, taking to whistling, began to do as she had been doing--idly throwing bits of moss into the rushing burn. After all, it was none of his business. But that evening, some little time before dinner, it was proposed they should go for a stroll down to the shore; and then it was that Miss White thought she would seize the occasion to let Macleod know of her arrangements for the coming autumn and winter. Ordinarily, on such excursions, she managed to walk with Janet Macleod--the old lady of Castle Dare seldom joined them--leaving Macleod to follow with her father; but this time she so managed it that Macleod and she left the house together. Was he greatly overjoyed? There was a constrained and anxious look on his face that had been there too much of late. "I suppose Oscar is more at home here than in Bury Street, St. James's?" said she, as the handsome collie went down the path before them. "No doubt," said he, absently: he was not thinking of any collie. "What beautiful weather we are having," said she, to this silent companion. "It is always changing, but always beautiful. There is only one other aspect I should like to see--the snow time." "We have not much snow here," said he. "It seldom lies in the winter." This was a strange conversation for two engaged lovers it was not much more interesting than their talk--how many ages ago?--at Charing Cross station. But then, when she had said to him, "_Ought we to take tickets?_" she had looked into his face with those appealing, innocent, beautiful eyes. Now her eyes never met his. She was afraid.