He looked steadily into her face, wondering just how much he might say, or whether he might say anything at all. But she was not looking at him. She was thinking how strange it would be to realize that this man had gone away clean out of the Glen, and that soon the ocean would roll between him and her. She had never felt so in her life about any human being outside of her family circle, and she was disturbed. "I hope that you will not think I presume if I ask what is going to become of you in the immediate future," said Rosmead presently. "Will you go back to London with your uncle, as he seems to expect?" "No, I shall simply go back to Creagh," she answered steadily. Rosmead was silent for a moment, trying to picture the life she would lead there, alone and without occupation, in the company of her brother from whom her heart was estranged. "To Creagh? It seems impossible! I can’t bear to think of you there. It is unthinkable!" "Oh, no--nothing is unthinkable, or even impossible. People can do anything in this world--anything," she answered. "I have proved it." "Then, shall I find you at Creagh when I come back?" he asked with an odd persistence, his eyes cleaving to her face. A tremor ran over it, and had he but known it the opportunity was his. Her heart turned--nay, cried out to him. Had he spoken the word then she would have gone away with him without a question or a doubt. But he blundered on, longing for her mightily, yet wholly afraid, believing that he dared not begin to woo her until he had given her heart time to recover from its present shock. Some one tapped lightly at the door. "It is au revoir, then, not good-bye," he said with an effort, and held out his hand. She gave hers to his warm, kindly clasp, and her eyes, over which the veil had already fallen, uplifted themselves to his. "I hope it is, but six months is a long time in life. So many things can happen. I hope you will have a safe journey and a successful issue to all your affairs, and--and that the difficulties you spoke of will all be swept from your path." "Some of them are big enough. But when I come back I will address myself to the biggest undertaking of my life, and the dearest." The door was opened, and Malcolm’s voice announced that the motor was waiting outside. Rosmead raised her hand to his lips and turned away, scarcely master of himself. Isla spoke no more. But, for once in his life, Peter Rosmead had erred on the side of caution. The incomparable chance had been his, and he had passed it by. When the door had closed upon them Isla leaned her head against the black oak of the window shutters, and a little sobbing breath that was almost a cry, broke from her lips. Her last prop had gone, but none knew--least of all the man whose one desire on earth was to take her to his heart. CHAPTER XIV FAMILY COUNSELS