They became silent then, driving in the track of the young moon towards the hills and the moor of the great silence. Isla felt no need of speech. A great sense of peace and comfort was hers as she nestled there by Rosmead’s side, the thick frieze of his driving-coat making for her a buttress from the wind. She, who had so long cared for others was fully conscious of the sweetness of being cared for. She was in no haste for the drive to end. Up at the Lodge of Creagh there was desolation and woe--and there also was the brother between whom and herself there was a great gulf fixed. She had not seen him since she had driven him forth from her presence with hard words, and she had no idea of the dreary vigil he had kept, wrestling with remorse and shame up there on the heather of Creagh. Rosmead was perfectly happy. He loved this woman with a great and growing love, and her nearness to him filled all his being. To render her the smallest service was such a joy to him that just then he asked for no more. All the chivalry of a singularly chivalrous race, all the fine gallant tenderness of the best in old Virginia was uppermost in Rosmead that night, which for both was a night of remembrance. "I shall always think of this night," said Isla very low as they drew near to the gate of Creagh. "This afternoon I thought it would close in despair. It is you and your dear people who have lifted me out of it, and God will bless and reward you. I never can." Rosmead, greatly daring, took the small gloved hand which lay outside the rug and raised it to his lips. But no word did he speak, good nor bad. Presently Isla made a little exclamation of surprise. "There is a machine of some kind at the door, Mr. Rosmead. Don’t you see the lights?" she said rather excitedly. "I wonder who it can be at this time of night. It must be nearly nine o’clock.’ "Close on it. Probably it is some neighbour calling on your brother." "It might be Mr. Drummond from Garrion. I know of nobody else who would take the trouble," said Isla. A minute later she proved her surmise to be right. The high-stepping Garrion roans were champing their bits and pawing the ground in front of the narrow doorway. Rosmead sprang down and with great tenderness helped Isla to alight. "You will come in of course, as you wish to see my brother." "I will come in if you desire it, but I do not forget that older friends may have the prior right, Miss Mackinnon." "I do desire it. It will be a help to me," she said. And together they passed over the threshold. Diarmid hastened out to meet them, and behind, from the library, came Malcolm and Neil Drummond. Rosmead, while apparently observing nothing, took note of two things--the curious, half-shrinking, half-defiant expression on Malcolm Mackinnon’s face, and the distinct antagonism that marked the manner of Neil Drummond towards himself.