It was not the way she would have chosen to leave; but she reasoned with herself, as she packed her belongings, that it was probably the best way. It gave no time and little inclination for sentiment. Now, it was almost certain that had a term been ahead of her, whose end could be felt nearing, there would have been good-byes, last interviews, and last interviews but one, which are apt to be more poignant than those of the last moment of all. Even as it was there were threatenings of emotion. Wanless was stirred deeply. Mr. Menzies brought in a nosegay, and grasped her hand. “You will be sorely missed here, Miss Percival, sorely missed. Less said's the sooner mended, but you're a true young lady, greatly to be deplored.” “Good-bye, Mr. Menzies,” she had said, “and thank you a thousand times for--” “They are from my own plot of ground,” said the grizzled gardener, and looked away. She had his tulips in her hand, and now buried her face in them. “Then I love them all the better,” she told him; and put in a word for Struan. “Be kind to him when you see him again--please do.” Mr. Menzies became far-sighted. He had very blue eyes. “Ahem!” he said, in his Scotch fashion. “He'll not be here again, I doubt. He'll be away, the headstrong young man.” But he warmed to it. “Ay,” he said, “ay, Miss Percival. For your sake I'll listen to what he has to tell me.” She felt that she must be content with that. Each servant in degree must be dealt with, and Minnie comforted in her place. She was all for going that night; but had a mother and four sisters in Doncaster--all at home. Would Miss Sanchia forgive her, and accept of this Prayer-book? Miss Sanchia would; kissed her, and did. In the carriage drive she told Mrs. Benson of her immediate intention. “I must say good-bye to Struan. We will stop at his cottage on the way. There's plenty of time.” Mrs. Benson was strongly against it, but rather showed her mind than declared it. Mischief enough had been done through that youth--and in him, she doubted. Better let him alone. Are you to countenance violent hands? Raised against them in authority? Then where's authority? Where are Principalities and Powers? Much as she contemned Ingram, she was on his side against Struan any day. On the other hand, Sanchia was, in a manner, her guest, and could not be spoken to plainly about it. She could only shake her head. “He's better alone, Miss Percival, alone with his devil. While the fit's on him, let 'em fight it out. And what can he be--to the likes of you?” “He's always been a friend of mine,” she said. “He's been very foolish, very wicked; he had no business whatever to do as he did--to put me in the wrong. I'm angry with him, and he will see that I am. But--” Mrs. Benson knew the force of that “but.” It had brought the young lady to Wanless.