As I went toward her she turned and walked to the door, and leaned against the frame awaiting me. "If trouble comes," I muttered, "the fort is strong.... But I wish to God you were in Albany." "I shall do well enough here.... Will you come again to Johnstown?" "Yes. Good-bye." "Good-bye, John Drogue." "Will you care for Kaya?" "Yes." "And if I do not return you are to have all with which I die possessed. I have written it." "In that event I keep only my memory of you. The rest I offer to the needy--in your name." Her voice was steady, and her hand, too, where it lay passive in mine. But it crisped and caught my fingers convulsively when I kissed her; and crept up along my fringed sleeve to my shoulder-cape, and grasped the green thrums. And now her arm lay tightly around my neck, and I looked down into the whitest face I ever had gazed upon. "I love you dearly," I said, "and am deep in love.... I want you, Penelope Grant." "I want you," she said. My heart was suffocating me: "Shall we exchange vows?" I managed to say. "What vows, sir?" "Such as engage our honour. I want you to wife, Penelope Grant." "Dear lad! What are you saying? You should travel widely and at leisure before you commit your honour to an unconsidered vow. I desire that you first see great cities, other countries, other women--of your own caste.... And then ... if you return ... and are still of the same mind ... concerning me...." "But _you_? There are other men in the world. And I must have your vows before I go!" "Oh, if it be only mine you desire, then I promise you, John Drogue, to look at no man with kindness in your absence, think of no man excepting you, pray for none save only His Excellency and General Schuyler, dream of none, God willing, but you. And to remain in deed and thought and word and conduct constant and faithful to you alone." "Then," said I, trembling, "I also promise----" "No!" "But I----" "Wait! For God's sake mind what you say; for I will not have it that your honour should ever summon you hither and not your heart! No! Let be as it is." Her sudden warmth and the quick flush of determination on her face checked and silenced me. She said very coolly: "Any person of sense must know that a marriage is unsuitable between a servant to Douw Fonda and John Murray Drogue _Forbes_, Laird of Northesk, and a Stormont to boot!" "Where got you that _Forbes_?" I demanded, astonished and angry. She laughed. "Because I know the clan, _my lord_!" "How do you know?" I repeated, astounded. "Because it is my own clan and name. Drogue-Forbes, Grant-Forbes!--a claymore or a pair of scissors can snip the link when some Glencoe or Culloden of adversity scatters families to the four winds and seven seas.... Well, sir, as the saying is in Northesk, 'a Drogue stops at nothing but a Forbes. And a Grant is as stubborn.' Did you ever hear that?" "Yes.... And _you_ are a Forbes of Northesk?" "Like yourself, sir, we _stop before a liaison_."