"That's just what I say all of the time!" she went on, as though some one might stop her by a speech of his own. "Just what I say, Lord Stair; both to Alexander Carmichael and his son. How beautiful, how very beautiful the friendship between you is. And between your children as well! Danvers is quite like a brother to your daughter, isn't he? "I really believe--now don't contradict me," she said, waving her handkerchief at her daughter, "I really believe that Isabel was inclined to be jealous yesterday. Danvers has always been so devoted to her--always, since she was quite a little, little girl; and I am afraid--just a tiny morsel afraid--that it was hard for her to share him. "Not that you were to blame, dearest," she said, turning to Nancy, "not the very least bit in the world. It was quite plain who claimed your time! Quite plain! His Grace of Borthwicke is positively the most fascinating creature I ever saw--positively. We never can get him in London at all; so I never took my eyes from him; and all the town bowing before him--and he absolutely on his knees before you, my dear! Absolutely! "Pardon me for mentioning it--forgive me, won't you?--but what a beautiful, exquisite ring! Look, Isabel! Quite like an engagement ring. Now could it--I wonder--could it," peering at it and then at Nancy through her glasses--Nancy, whose eyes had the significant darkness in them which I have mentioned so often. "It is not an engagement ring," she answered quietly. And here Janet, who had watched the Hon. Mrs. Erskine in much the same manner as she would have regarded a foolish old cat, came into the talk. "Since you think so highly of Danvers, Mrs. Erskine, ye must say a good word for him to Nancy Stair. He's my choice for her to marry," she said, looking around with a bland smile. "And does he want to marry her?" Mrs. Erskine asked, abashed by this directness. "He told me that he had asked her three times a day ever since they met, and I, for one, hope that she'll think twenty times of him to once she thinks of that devilish John Montrose." I cared nothing for the silly old Mrs. Erskine, but my heart bled for her daughter, who became a piteous white at the turn the talk had taken, and put her handkerchief to her face, affecting a cough. Nancy saw this and her heart spoke. "Dandy Carmichael," she says, "talks to you, Mrs. MacGillavorich, to please ye--you lay too much stress by what he says." But the italicizing lady was routed, and as Janet watched her departure from the window she said: "Mark my words, John Stair! she's fetched that girl here to marry her to Danvers Carmichael. I've not known Anne Erskine all these years for nothing. The old cat!" she cried. CHAPTER XV CONCERNING DANVERS CARMICHAEL AND HIS GRACE OF BORTHWICKE