‘The girls were so impatient,’ said Lady Fordyce; ‘and it would be such a kindness on Lady Milborough’s part if she could be prevailed upon to spare her dear Maria.’ Thus two letters were dispatched; one by Crauford unknown to his mother, and one by his mother unknown to Crauford. It chanced that the two answers arrived each on the same day. Lady Fordyce’s serenity was somewhat restored by the one which found its way into her hands. Her correspondent expressed herself much gratified by the appreciation shown of her Maria. Her daughter, under the care of an elderly maid, should start immediately. ‘We shall all be pleased to welcome Lady Maria, shall we not, Crauford?’ said Lady Fordyce, as the family were gathered round the dinner-table. ‘I shall not be here, ma’am,’ replied her son, looking up from his veal pie. ‘I am starting on a visit the day after to-morrow.’ CHAPTER XV THE THIRD VOICE SPEID stood at the corner of a field, in the place from which he had looked up the river with Barclay on the day of his arrival. His steps were now often turned in that direction, for the line of the Morphie woods acted as a magnet to his gaze. Since the day he had spoken so freely to Granny Stirk he had not once met Cecilia, and he was weary. It was since he had last seen her that he had discovered his own heart. Away where the Lour lost itself in the rich land, was the casket that held the jewel he coveted. He put his hand up to his cheek-bone. He was glad that he would carry that scar on it to his death, for it was an eternal reminder of the night when he had first beheld her under the branches, as they walked in the torchlight to Morphie House. He had not been able to examine her face till it looked into his own in the mirror as she put the plaster on his cheek. That was a moment which he had gone over, again and again, in his mind. It is one of the strangest things in life that we do not recognise its turning-points till we have passed them.