'I hope she will ere long; but is there not a writer who says, Allan, that while the world lasts the difficulty of women understanding and making allowance for the feelings of men in what pertains to love, "will be probably one of the great sources of darkness and confusion in the social arrangement of things."' 'What a dear little casuist it is,' said he, as she raised her _petite_ figure on tip-toe to kiss his well-tanned cheek; 'but,' he added, 'I am in a state of great uncertainty.' 'Uncertainty can always be ended; but then perhaps how bitterly--how very bitterly,' replied Eveline, who was not without some harrowing thoughts of her own; and something in her tone caused Allan to regard her soft hazel eyes, and sweet, shy face, with tenderness and inquiry. 'Of what are you thinking, or of--_whom_?' he whispered, as his arm went caressing round her, and he stroked her bright, sheeny hair. 'I may trust you, Allan?' she said, in a broken voice. 'To death, _petite_. You are thinking of--of Evan Cameron?' Eveline sobbed now. 'Has he spoken of love to you?' asked Allan, in a low voice, and with a troubled expression in his face. 'Never; he knows it would be hopeless,' she replied, huskily. 'Poor Evan! and the governor is bringing him again--a grand mistake! How the deuce is all this to end with us? But don't sob so, my little darling,' he added, as he drew her closer to him. Yet, despite her brother's sympathy and tenderness, Eveline Graham let her tears flow freely, and he promised to keep her secret that she and Evan Cameron cherished an unspoken and hopeless love for each other; and in a brief space they were to meet again! Meanwhile, though somewhat relieved by having her brother for a confidant, she was both restless and unhappy. She strolled upon the terrace to feed the peacocks, or wandered listlessly in the garden, going from occupation to occupation, taking up a book--one of Mudie's last--only to toss it aside; seated herself before the piano, rose then and left it. Anon she resorted to her sketching-block, sorted her colours, selected a brush, only to quit any attempt to work with a hopeless sigh. CHAPTER VI. THE CHAGRIN OF LOVE. Lord Aberfeldie duly arrived at Dundargue with his three gentlemen visitors, their approach being heralded by the pipes of Ronald Gair, who was perched on a seat of the game-laden wagonette as it bowled up the avenue. On the first day of his return the peer was anxious to learn upon what footing the cousins were--if Allan had made a proposal, or 'even opened the trenches,' and if so, with what success. On these points he was enlightened by Lady Aberfeldie, and, though not very much surprised to find matters as they were, he trusted to propinquity and cousinly feeling of intercourse, as trump cards in the game, and was sure that all would come right in the end, and before Allan's leave of absence was out.