Rosmead immediately grasped the whole facts. He saw that the old man was wholly detached from the affairs of life, and more and more his heart ached with compassion for Isla Mackinnon. He walked right round the house, admiring its outline, even the huddled little towers touching his fancy, and he made up his mind on the spot that this should be his future dwelling-place. No matter what should be the price, he would pay it, because something told him that here was a place in which his money could be of use. There was something deeper, however--the conviction that destiny had willed it that his life was somehow to be bound up with this old house and its inmates. The idea appealed to him and gave him a quickened interest in the place. When he returned to the drawing-room in about ten minutes’ time he found that it now contained four persons--his sister and their hostess and the two who had arrived to call. "This is Mr. Rosmead, Kitty," said Isla, in whose face the pink spot of excitement burned again. "Miss Drummond, Mr. Neil Drummond, Mr. Rosmead." Rosmead gravely saluted, but though Kitty beamed upon the handsome stranger, Neil was hostile. His face positively gloomed, and he had hardly a word to say. His manners did not show to advantage that day. He seemed a boor beside the smooth, polished man of the world that Rosmead, by contrast, appeared. When tea was brought, it was Rosmead who established himself by the table, leaving his sister to chatter to the Drummonds. He did this of a set purpose, because he wished to say a word in Isla’s private ear, and there did not seem to be any opportunity--unless he made one--of saying it. "Miss Mackinnon, Mr. Cattanach has told you that we are anxious to get settled soon on account of my mother’s health. Do you think you could give me a definite answer as to what you intend to do regarding the letting of the house to-day?" "Yes, easily. If you care for it, now you have seen it, please take it," she answered without looking up. The tone of her voice slightly disconcerted him, because he knew that her depth of feeling must be occasioning her the greatest pain. "We would not hurry you--or seem to embarrass you in any way. My mother is the kindest and most reasonable of women, and I hope that you will permit her to know you if she comes to Achree. Are you likely to stay in the neighbourhood?" "Yes," she answered, and her breath came a little faster. "We are going to the lodge at Creagh, at the other side of the moor." The information seemed to please him. "Then, perhaps you will write to Mr. Cattanach when your arrangements are made."