Near that of Eaglescraig are two large yellow rings or circles strongly marked in the green-sward (like those on the hill of Craiganrarie), drawn by the sword of an evil Montgomerie, who had trafficked in Satanic influence, and thus had formed round him an orbit of protection, before summoning his sable majesty, and round which the latter had to keep running, so long as he was visible to mortal eyes. 'You do worry me, Hew,' said Mary, with something of a saucy laugh, 'and I have every mind to stand in the conjuror's circle and defy you to approach me.' 'Do you deem me, then, so distasteful, so odious, and such an incarnation of evil?' 'No; but seriously, what is the aim, the object of all this attention, Cousin Hew? for though the tie is a remote one certainly, I may call you cousin, I believe.' 'Do, dearest Mary.' 'Well?' she asked, curtly and impatiently. 'The aim and object, you say?' 'Yes, yes.' 'To marry you, of course; that is--that is, if you will have me, and please Sir Piers,' he replied, with perfect deliberation and more apparent coolness than he usually felt. 'I won't consult grand-uncle on _that_ matter, Cousin Hew. Besides, now that I think of it, I don't want to marry.' 'Indeed! I thought marriage was the sole aim of every girl's existence.' 'In novels more than in real life, perhaps. Besides, marriage is only to be thought of when the man and the hour come.' 'It is the end of all anxieties,' urged Hew, who thought no doubt of his monetary ones. 'I have none to end; and with many girls it is only the beginning of a set of troubles which none of them expect. But let us drop this very funny conversation.' 'Why?' 'You surely would not seek a wife with half a heart, or none!' 'The half of your heart, Mary, is worth the whole of any other woman's!' replied Hew, with more warmth and gallantry than he had yet shown; but the provoking Mary only laughed, and as she drew near the dovecot, some of the pigeons, to whom her figure was familiar, and whom she was wont to bring food for, came wheeling and fluttering round her, and one, after nestling in her neck--a pretty sight--alighted on her left hand, and while she stroked and fed it with the right, Hew could not but remark that the snow-white pigeon was not whiter than her slender fingers. 'I would I were that pigeon,' said he, sentimentally. '"Would I were a glove upon that hand!"--now don't be a goose and attempt to act Romeo, as I cannot be your Juliet,' said Mary, laughing outright; and now he began to eye her with his gloomiest expression in his parti-coloured orbs, while she caressed the bird, and sang, as if to it, part of Lady Anne Lindsay's song: '"Why tarries my love? Ah, where does he roam? My love is long absent from me. Come hither, sweet dove, I'll write to my love, And send him a letter by thee.