He was still very grave, and a shade paler than before, but his countenance was immovable, and indeed stern. It was a peculiarity of Walter Maxwell that, under strong excitement, his exterior became unusually cold and composed. ‘I have thought so for long,’ he resumed. ‘Perhaps it has distressed me more than you would think possible. I trust I have done my duty as thoroughly as if you and I had been friends; but I have felt that difficulties appeared greater, and hardships less endurable than if our differences had not existed. The breach has widened day by day; ere long, you and I will have learned to hate each other.’ ‘Oh, no, no!’ she murmured, scarce above her breath, but she kept her head bent down, and the tears were dropping fast among the winter-roses in her basket. He had never let go her hand; he folded it in both his own, and pressed it to his lips. ‘Mary Carmichael,’ said he, ‘since the day we first met in the forest of Chambord, I have wished to be worthy of you, and you alone. I am no woman-worshipper, no smooth-tongued silken gallant, and yet I think there are few things I could not do to please you; nothing, save my honour, I would not sacrifice for your sake.’ A gleam of intense pride and pleasure shone for an instant in her eyes; the next, her face contracted as if with pain, and she looked up scared and wild, through her tears. ‘You must not say so--you must not say so,’ she exclaimed, drawing her hand away hurriedly, and with a frightened, half-distracted air. ‘Let me go now--let me go; I hear the others coming.’ ‘Is that your answer?’ said he, very lowly and distinctly, but with a pale face, and something in his voice that it was better not to trifle with. She looked here and there, like some graceful wild animal caught in the toils. Footsteps were indeed approaching, and half the flowers were again scattered on the floor. ‘You must not say so,’ she repeated; but for an instant she placed her hand once more in his with a lightning glance of unspeakable tenderness; ‘at least not yet!’ she added, and sped hurriedly away. When she was gone, Walter Maxwell stooped down, picked up one of the roses, and hid it carefully within his doublet. Then he proceeded to his business with a lighter heart and a brighter face than he had carried since he came to Holyrood. We will follow the young lady to the apartment in which the Maries were accustomed to congregate when off duty, plying their needles with industrious rapidity, and lightening their labours, we may be sure, with the pleasures of conversation.