"Because ye're getting ready the best bedroom," said the gardener. "Oh dear, no," said Jane; "we shall never have company here again, I think. I'm only having this put ready for Sir Murray himself, because some of the old plaster ceiling of his own room's come down." "Puir lad! he looks bad," said McCray. "And serve him right, too," said Jane, defiantly. "I haven't patience with him." "Nay, lassie, perhaps not," said McCray. "But ye've plenty of patience with them as is waur." "Please don't talk about that," said Jane, pleadingly. "Nay, lassie, then I winna," said McCray, sadly; "but be patient mysel', if it's for twenty long years ere ye turn to me." Jane leaned out, giving the gardener one long earnest gaze, such a one as made his heart beat more freely, but the coming steps of some one along a neighbouring path sent Jane to her work, and McCray's broom rustling over gravel and leaf. Before many seconds had passed Lady Gernon came by, very pale and thoughtful. She had a basket in her hand, and, evidently bent upon some expedition, she made her way through the ring fence, and away across the park, neither looking to the right nor left. "Siller and titles are nice things," mused McCray; "but they don't seem to make yon puir creature happy." McCray swept as he thought, and thought as he swept. Jane did not again appear at the window, and if she had done so, the opening of one in the lower range would have kept him from speaking to her, while, as he swept on and on, hunting out errant leaves from the hiding-places where they were waiting for a bit of fun with the wind, he became conscious of the dark, lowering face of Sir Murray, apparently watching the progress of his lady from the side of the house where he now was. "He's a puir, miserable sort of chiel," muttered the gardener; "he seems to want a rousing up. It's my belief that a few hours' trenching a day wi' a good broad spade wad do him a world of good. He eats too much, and he drinks too much; but I'm sorry for him, puir lad--I'm sorry for him!" That night Alexander McCray sat in his little room, thoroughly enjoying himself, for he was so elated with the glance Jane had that morning bestowed upon him, that he had treated himself to a pipe and a small tumbler of whisky and water, over which he sat smiling and happy, for it struck him that he had at last got in the thin edge of the wedge, and that the future would all be plain sailing. "And she's as good a woman as ever the sun shone on," said Sandy at last, as, after draining the last drop from his tumbler of whisky and water, and trying in vain to ignite the ashes at the bottom of his pipe, he tapped the bowl upon the bar, and then stood up to think.