"Ah, that will be difficult, but I have never been beaten yet, Mr. Cattanach, though sometimes I have been very near it. Yesterday I thought I was, but to-day, when I woke up, I felt quite strong and able, and now, after your kindness, I am sure we shall get through." "I shall help to the very best of my ability. I can come down to Achree if you think I can be of any use to you in persuading the General." "Thank you. I shall write if I think it necessary for you to come. But he is so like a child! He will be quite pleased to go to Creagh, I believe, and he will not understand why we have to leave Achree. I am glad that it is so now. If he had been his old self it would have been so difficult for him." "Undoubtedly it would." "And Malcolm’s affair too! He must not be allowed to idle about indefinitely in the glen, or I shall never have a moment’s peace. I’m going to talk very straightly to him when he comes. He has always got off too easily. But this money--how is it to be found? If they begin to press for it would they take Achree?" "We shall prevent that. You must leave this in my hands, Miss Mackinnon. The best thing your brother could do would be to emigrate to one of the new countries--to Canada, or the Cape, or even the Argentine. As you say, it will not be possible to allow him to loaf about the glen." "But he is so difficult, because, you see, he thinks nothing matters, and his only desire is to have what he calls a good time. Even if he has it at other people’s expense he will have it. About this money he owes? I will do my utmost to save for it out of the money the Americans will pay. They will not do anything drastic about it, I hope--seize upon Achree or any part of it," she repeated wistfully, as if yet unconvinced. "I can deal with them, Miss Mackinnon. You must leave that part of the business for your brother and me to settle between us. You may trust me to do what will be absolutely for the good of yourself and your brother." "Oh, I know," she said with eloquent eyes. "Thank you so much. You are always so kind. Things seem easier when one has seen you. Good-bye, then. And you will send the American man to view the land soon? I hope I shall be able to please him." A clock on the mantelshelf struck, and she made haste to the door. "I have to lunch with Mr. Neil Drummond of Garrion at one. I must run," she said. The lawyer himself escorted her to the street door, put her into a cab, and, as he returned slowly up the stairs, rubbed his hands together meditatively. "Drummond of Garrion! Well, well, perhaps it might be the best thing she could do. Poor, poor girl, but game to the innermost fibre of her being! Where would our old families be but for such as she--but for the fine fibre of their women? Garrion! Garrion! By Gad, I must look into it and see whether it would be worth her while." CHAPTER IV THE AMERICANS