"Yes, I will do so, but there is something I must say first. I tried to say it to your sister, but somehow I could not," she said, still hurriedly and with her eyes on her tray. "I am sure that you will find that the house needs many things. We have been so poor that it has not been replenished, as it would have been in different circumstances. That must be taken into consideration in settling the question of the rent to be paid. I will tell Mr. Cattanach so. I hope I make myself plain?" she said, lifting her eyes to his face when he gave her no answer. "I am saying, Mr. Rosmead, that we can’t spend any money on the house, and that whatever you find it lacks you will supply for yourselves." "I quite understand that. Pray, don’t speak of it--it is not worth mentioning. I understand that it is a sacrifice for you to let us have the house at all. I wish I did not realize that so keenly." She looked at him again, and the expression in her eyes wholly changed. The child-look came back--the look of trust, of ingenuousness, of innocent sweetness, and it moved Rosmead profoundly. A very reticent, self-contained, observant man, he was interested and drawn by the tragedy, the unfathomable sadness of this girl’s life. To possess Achree, and thus to come within sight and possible touch of Isla Mackinnon, had suddenly become to him a matter of personal moment. But it was not so with Isla; she liked him; she was grateful to him for his reticence and his consideration, but to her he was simply the man who wanted Achree, and for whom they must leave it. "You are very kind, but in a matter of this kind business must be the basis," she said presently, with a sudden return of her original hauteur. "I shall write to Mr. Cattanach to-night, and ask him to arrange things. Our removal to Creagh is only a matter of two or three days for the gathering together of our few personal belongings--that is all. I hope there will not be any difficulties in the way, and that you will be able to come to Achree, for your mother’s sake, at the time you wish." His next words arrested her attention, in spite of herself. "If there are difficulties I shall do my best to overcome them. That has been the business of my life up till now." "How do you mean?" she asked with an involuntary interest. "I am a builder of bridges," he answered. At this moment the Laird of Garrion, glowering like his own moor in a snell winter day, came stalking across the room, his step and his manner indicating that he considered that the stranger had already presumed too much. Rosmead, in no way perturbed, drew out his watch. "Sadie, it’s time we went if we are to catch that train," he said to his sister, who, deep in girlish talk with Kitty Drummond, rose reluctantly.