What was till they met again? the kiss on her hand? This question, the imbecility of which can only be explained by her extreme agitation, was the only thing that fluttered through Marjory’s mind in that hasty moment, which was over like a dream. She ran to the window and threw it open, and gazed after him. He was gone, actually gone--upon his errand--which might lead him heaven knows where; no doubt she had sent for him with this very purpose; but though she had felt the most sensible mortification when he appeared unwilling to undertake it, yet, nevertheless, his sudden departure quite stupefied Marjory. It put Isabell and Agnes, and their whole story, completely out of her head. She sat down at the open window and watched him as long as he was in sight, and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from going after him in the strange state of excitement into which his sudden departure threw her. All this was without any action of her mind at all--a sudden whirl of involuntary feeling, nothing more. But it is impossible to describe the consternation of Mr. Charles when he heard of the departure of their visitor. This was when he returned to luncheon, which he did at the cost of some personal inconvenience--for he had to return to the Links for a match at three o’clock. It was sheer benevolence that brought him, and fear least Marjory should feel herself uncomfortable--thus receiving a stranger, “and no man in the house.” The announcement, however, took him entirely by surprise. “Mr. Fanshawe away!” he said; “bless me, Marjory, what has taken him away? What did the man come for, if he was to go away so soon? I was just saying to myself to-day, if he was the same as he was at Pitcomlie, we might have a difficulty in getting rid of him; and here I find he’s off! Maybe, my dear, it was your fault?” She was annoyed with herself for blushing; but she answered calmly enough: “I do not think so, uncle; he took me very much by surprise.” “Well, my dear,” said Uncle Charles, “you must manage your own affairs, and no doubt you’ll do it well; but you must mind that though he’s a very pleasant person, and was very serviceable, we’ve heard but a poor account of Mr. Fanshawe. I cannot say I recollect, just at this moment, what it was I heard--” “Whatever it was,” said Marjory, with some heat, “I do not believe it, Uncle Charles.” “Well, well!” said Mr. Charles once more, in a tone of soothing; “I do not bid you believe all you hear, my dear; still it should not be altogether neglected; that’s not wise; in short, far from wise. To tell the truth, if he is not away in a pet about something I know nothing of, I’m not sorry, for my part, to be alone to-day. I am vexed by some news I have from good Dr. Murray. I will have to go over there.” “Has anything gone wrong?”