’You’d be astonished how long they keep their heat, too,’ Herries said to Alison. ’We’ll put one in your muff, and you’ll see how ’twill keep your hands warm all the way home.’ And he popped the biggest into Alison’s muff, and was very ’jokey’ with Isabella, and Isabella with him, and so the time went very pleasantly. But, alas! as the end drew near, and Danny heard the horses’ feet upon the street, and knew he was to be left behind, he began to cry, not with the robust roar of healthy childhood, but with silent tears, that overflowed his piteous dark eyes, and wet his small pale face. Alison gathered him in her arms, and cuddled him against her shoulder. She spoke to him of the coming summer—of the time when he would be well again and able to run about, and Willy should come down and play with him on the sands. And Danny—who would never see another summer, or run about again, or play with his little brother more—looked up in her kind face, and was comforted. The afternoon had settled to a piercing cold, as they drove home. For a mile, the horses, maddened with the frost, and fresh from their long rest, ran away, and the coach swayed from side to side, Willy shrieking with delight. Alison felt a strange excitement in the air; the evening was so lovely—earth and sky and sea wore those strange, gem-like tints which are part of the magic accompaniment of a great frost. There rose, to their left, out of the ruddy haze—the craggy mass of Arthur’s Seat; and tower and crown, and citadel and spire rose, one by one, and the great rock-built city wore all its classic air—a smoky fane, spread to the cold gods of the north. Herries was very silent; in the dark of the coach, silhouetted against the window, Alison could see the fine, cold profile, the severe, set mouth. She was very silent too, and presently Willy fell asleep, and lay against her knee in a tired heap. When they got out at the Grassmarket it was in the gloaming, and Herries said he would see his charges to their door. A slip of the new moon swam in the limpid sky; every now and then she looked down at them between the high houses. Alison was turning over in her mind the pretty speech that she must make to Mr. Herries for this pleasant day. Ah, how to say enough, and not too much! The very thought of it made her heart beat—with sheer nervousness, was it? Or was it that Herries’s extreme silence was burdened with a meaning which made itself felt, in the strange way of such things? When they got to the General’s Entry, Willy clattered up the stair. The lamp flared, and in its doubtful light Herries stood waiting. And then, because, perhaps, being of a masterful mind, he meant to wait no longer for what he wanted; or just because what he wanted was so near, so sweet, so terribly desirable,—his arm crept to Alison’s waist, and he kissed her, and the ice of his life seemed broken, all the sweet springs of summer to gush in his heart.