He would tell Isla after they were in the car, and prepare her as best he might for what she had to meet. But he was spared the need. All his carefully concerted plan for saving her was rendered unavailing by the shrill tones of a newsboy’s voice. The passing of the smallest coin of the realm in exchange for the first edition of an evening paper, and Rosmead got back to the compartment to discover that Isla knew the truth. CHAPTER XXIX THE LAST LEAF ON THE TREE Once more the burying-place of the Mackinnons in Balquhidder kirkyard was opened to receive a Laird of Achree. While a small band of mourners stood by it in the soft spring sunshine Isla sat with her Aunt Jean in the library of the Lodge of Creagh, staring in front of her with a far-away expression on her face. Lady Mackinnon, who had not yet recovered from the effects of the hurried journey from Barras, was talking in subdued tones about the future. But Isla heard her as she heard her not. "Of course you will just come to Barras, my dear, and we’ll do our best. It is a very fortunate thing that the Rosmeads have Achree for another year and more. It will give us time to turn round. Don’t look like that, Isla. It is all very terrible, of course, but it is not the end of everything." At the moment there was a tap at the door, and Diarmid’s grey head appeared, his lace looking old and worn, his eyes tired with weeping. "Please, Miss Isla, it’s a leddy. She will not go away, whatefer, and I have putten her in the little pack room till I ask whether you will see her." "No, of course not. I will," said Lady Mackinnon, bustling up. "A lady! Don’t you know her, Diarmid? Hasn’t she given you a name?" "No, my Leddy, I don’t ken her. She’s frem to Glenogle, and she says Miss Isla would not ken her name, forby." Isla was already at the door. "No, Aunt Jean. Thank you very much, but I must see her. I think I know who it is." Rather disappointed--for anything would have served to break the dreary monotony of this awful house--Lady Mackinnon sank back into her chair, but a moment after, acting on a sudden impulse, she rose and swiftly drew up the blind. She then saw that a hired trap was waiting outside the gate, the man nodding on the box-seat, while the reins lay loosely across the horse’s neck. She knew nothing of the tragedy at the back of Malcolm’s life, and, though it had been more than whispered in the Glen that there had been no accident on Loch Earn, but that Mackinnon had gone forth, meaning to take his own life in the way that seemed easiest and would occasion least remark, these rumours had not been permitted to reach Creagh. But Isla, in her heart, had knowledge and confirmation of these things, though she had not heard of them. How surprised, then, would Lady Mackinnon have been could she have heard what passed in the little room behind.