"The lassie is richt, after a'. There's your gude, sweet kiss, and your Judas kiss, and I think perhaps she did richt in sending me; but it's a sail job to leave one's work i' the daytime, and after a' there was not much to come for." Had Sandy McCray been there five--nay, four--minutes sooner, he would have been of a different opinion, for Sir Murray Gernon, led, perhaps, by some tricksy sprite of the woods--some Puck of modern times--had hurried on and on, each moment growing more and more angry and excited at having missed the object of his search. For days past she had never left the Castle unwatched, but this time she had gone out suddenly, and at an hour when he had believed her to be in her bedroom. That there was some definite object for her walk he felt convinced, and when, after hurrying up and down several alleys of the wood, he at length caught sight of Lady Gernon, he felt no surprise--there was no great feeling of mad anger in his breast, but something like a bitter sense of satisfaction, such as might be that of any one who, after a long and arduous search, comes upon the object of his quest. He uttered no exclamation, made no excited movement; but, with such a smile as McCray had described, he stood gazing down a woodland arcade, to where, some fifty yards in advance--framed, as it were, in the autumn-tinted leaves--stood Lady Gernon and the man to whom she had first given her love. They were, perhaps, a yard apart--Lady Gernon, with her head bent, resting with one hand against a tree-trunk; Philip Norton--his hands upon the stick he held--gazing at her, it seemed, sadly and earnestly; but, as far as Sir Murray could tell, no word was spoken. The next moment, quietly, and still smiling, Sir Murray slowly advanced down the arcade, half of which he had traversed before he was perceived; but even then there was no start--no guilty confusion--only Lady Gernon turned deadly pale, and a shade of trouble crossed Captain Norton's face. Sir Murray, with the same strange smile, advanced to where they stood, raising his hat in answer to Norton's salute; and then, with the most courteous air, he said: "Lady Gernon, you look pale." "I believe, Sir Murray," said Norton, "Lady Gernon was startled and troubled at our sudden encounter." "Exactly," said Sir Murray, quietly. "You misunderstand me," said Norton, gravely, the shadow deepening upon his face. "I alluded to her encounter with me. Five minutes since, I met her by accident." "Most accurate," said Sir Murray, smiling. "And after the past--after the misunderstanding between our families, Sir Murray," continued Norton, not heeding the taunt. "Exactly?" said Sir Murray.