'Dearest Olive, will you promise to love me--to marry me?' 'Why require any promise about the matter?' she replied, as all her wilfulness returned; 'has not my father promised for me--bequeathed me to you like a bale of goods, or condemned me to poverty!' she added, with a bitter laugh on her lips that curled with anger. 'I wonder that he did not order that I was to be locked up and fed on bread and water till I gave my consent to marry you, or that I was to be dropped into that oubliette which exists somewhere in Dundargue.' 'Cousin Olive,' said he, reproachfully, 'why this pride and doubt of my purpose? You are as cruel as you are beautiful.' 'This is worse than anything you have ever said to me,' she cried, with angry laughter still. 'Worse?' 'Yes, an attempt at gross straightforward compliment, as if I was a girl at a railway buffet.' 'Don't you like to be complimented?' 'By some people--yes,' was the petulant reply. 'All the girls I have ever known have liked pretty, flattering speeches.' 'But I am different, I hope, from most of the girls you have known.' 'By Jove you are!' replied the Master, twisting his moustache till he made himself wince; 'but will I never be more to you than I am now?' 'Never more than my cousin--what would you desire to be? But here comes Mr. Holcroft, to whom I certainly made no sign,' she added, with some annoyance, as she thought of what had so lately passed between them; and then, so variable was her emotion, that she laughed as she thought--'Two proposals in one day, and both made in the saddle too--how droll!' Allan misinterpreted her silent laugh as a welcome to Holcroft, and shrank from his own angry fears--they were not convictions yet--lest he should adopt that meanest passion of the whole category--jealousy without a just cause--jealousy of one inferior to him in social position, and certainly in personal attractions. When reduced to act cavalier to Miss Ruby Logan, who certainly did not want him, Hawke Holcroft had looked darkly after the cousins as they rode off together, and thought that nothing short of death would prevent him from accomplishing the object he had now in view ere he left Dundargue. From something in the manner of the cousins, he--a close observer--augured that Allan had not made his 'innings' with the heiress, yet he cantered up to Allan's side, and said, smilingly to Olive, 'May I smoke, Miss Raymond? The road is quite lonely, and if not disagreeable to you----' 'Certainly,' said she, curtly. 'And I shall join you,' added Allan. 'Can you oblige me with a light, Holcroft?' Cigars were selected, and Holcroft handed his silver matchbox to Allan, who, with a leap of his heart, though without changing colour or a muscle of his dark and sunburned face, saw on his rival's wrist his own gift sent from Delhi, the gold bangle, which Olive had, perhaps, for the time forgotten, and on which was her own name in raised Roman letters.