“And you saw her tears down-distilling all crystalline woe, Hector?” “She had her back tae me, I’m tellin’ ye!” “Well, did she embrace your offer in humble, grateful thankfulness?” “She’s tae gi’e me her answer when she’s conseedered the matter.” “So, Hector, you offer her the comfort and shelter of a home, the secure protection of your care ... merely because she tended the hurt in your arm?” Sir Hector seemed to find some difficulty with the drawing of his pipe; he examined it, tapped it, grew red in the face blowing down it, and finally, giving it up in despair, spoke. “John, ye’ve a shrewd eye for a bonny lass. I’ll no’ deny she’s an unco’ handsome creature. But, wha’s better, lad, she’s a gude lass, sweet an’ pure, John ... and here’s mysel’, an auld sojer as kens little o’ women except—t’other sort; here’s me, John, wad keep her gude and pure as she is. Gin she’ll but trust tae my care, here’s me will shield her from onything and onybody, aye, even from—from——” “Me, Hector?” “Aye—juist yersel’, John.” “Ha!” sighed Sir John, and turned to stare at the shore again, its sandy bays and snowy cliffs much nearer now, while Sir Hector, eyeing him a little askance, began to worry at his pipe again. And then she who was the subject of their talk stepped out upon deck and stood gazing shorewards beneath her hand. “You are quite sure, then, that I mean her evil?” inquired Sir John softly, his glance upon her unconscious form. “Why, Jock ... why, Jock lad, ... ye see ... there’s y’r reputation!” “My reputation!” he repeated. “Ever and always my reputation. Aye, to be sure, Hector, to be sure—my reputation dogs me and will do all my days.... I am no fit companion for Innocence; my reputation forbids.... It goes beside me like a shadow, and yet for the moment I had forgot it. Rose!” he called suddenly. “Rose child, pray come hither!” Mutely obedient she came and stood, glancing quick-eyed from one to the other. “Rose,” he continued, “my old and most honoured friend, Sir Hector MacLean, tells me he hath offered you the shelter of a father’s care?” “Yes, your honour.” “I have known and loved Sir Hector from my earliest years, and tell you that in him you would find the most honourable, kindest, most generous friend and guardian in all this big world——” “Hoot, John lad!” exclaimed Sir Hector. “Ha’ done; ye fair mak’ me blush!” And away he strode, incontinent. “Knowing you as I do, child,” continued Sir John, his keen gaze upon her down-bent face, “I fear that Sir Hector’s so altruistic offer may seem to you a matter for laughter——” “Laughter?” she repeated in hot anger. “Oh, indeed, sir! Be this another o’ your honour’s clever guesses?” “And so, Rose,” he went on placidly, “if you must laugh indeed, laugh behind his back; do not let him see, for ’twould wound him deeply——”