"Then the sooner you begin to hit it off the better," said Sir Tom severely. "It’s not decent to behave as you are doing. How do you propose to live together in the Lodge of Creagh, even for a little while, if you feel like that?" "Give it up!" said Malcolm. And it was as if his whole body and spirit had relaxed now that some strain was removed. "There was a dryness between us about the letting of Achree," resumed Malcolm, seeing that the old man was still staring intently at him, as if waiting to be enlightened. "Of course, I didn’t like it. After all, it was my business, wasn’t it, Uncle Tom? And Isla took it all upon herself. See how it has complicated things just now!" "Yes, but the American money is very good," said Uncle Tom drily. "Barras would be a howling wilderness without it." "I daresay that Isla and I would have pulled through without it, and I could have occupied myself in looking after the place. It wants a lot of pulling together, Uncle Tom. Everything is slack, and the tenants don’t pay what they might--not one of them." "You can’t take the breeks off a Hielandman, lad," was the dry response. "But it’s about Isla I’m chiefly concerned. You can very well fend for yourself. You’ll have to make proper provision for her, Malcolm. Whoever suffers, she must have enough to live upon. She isn’t one who requires much, but providing for her must be your first duty. I don’t doubt that you will do it." "I’ll do the fair thing, of course. We’ll have to have a talk, I suppose. I do wish she would go with you to London, if it were only for a few days. I could come to fetch her later. It would clear the air." "She won’t--you can see that in the eyes of her. There’s something back of it all--God knows what--and I suppose you’ll have to fight it out your two selves. But you’ll be very gentle with her, Malcolm, for to-night she looks the most forlorn creature on the face of God’s earth." He blew his nose as he said this, and he begged Malcolm to bring him a peg of whisky. They waxed more confidential over their drink, of which, however, Malcolm partook very abstemiously. Drink had never been his besetting sin. About eleven Sir Tom went off to bed, a little reassured concerning the affairs of the Achree Mackinnons and having no doubt whatever but that Malcolm would do his duty. Malcolm certainly at this moment wished to do it, if only he knew how. He didn’t want to leave Glenogle, still less did he want to live under one roof with his sister. If she refused to leave the Glen he would have no alternative but to go, and what would be the upshot of it all? Near to midnight he was still pondering this mighty and seemingly insoluble problem when the library door was silently pushed open and Isla in a white dressing-gown, with her long hair tied lightly back and hanging loosely on her shoulders, came in. Her face looked ghastly pale against the whiteness of her wrap, and her eyes were shining like stars.