He looked at her for the first time in some minutes. "Why," said he, "you're ill; you're white as a sheet!" "It's the long walk uphill. It takes me in the heart, somehow." "I'm sorry," said McTavish simply. "I'm mighty sorry. It's all my fault." "Why, so it is," said she, with the flicker of a smile. "You must take my arm going back. I _am_ sorry." When they had left the chapel and locked the door, she took his arm without any further invitation. "I will, if you don't mind," she said. "I am shaken, and that's the truth.... But what," and again the smile flickered--"what would The McTavish say if she saw us--her cousin and her housekeeper--dawdling along arm in arm?" McTavish laughed. "I don't mind, if you don't." They returned slowly by the long turf walk to the statue of Atlas. "Now," said he, "how should I go about getting an interview with The McTavish?" "Well," said Mrs. Nevis, "it will not be for to-day. She is leaving within the hour for Beem-Tay in her motor-car." "Oh, then I shall follow her to Beem-Tay." "If you can do that," said Mrs. Nevis, "I will give you a line to my sister. Maybe she could help you. She's the housekeeper at Beem-Tay--Miss MacNish is her name." And she added as if by an after-thought. "We are twins." "Are there two of you?" exclaimed McTavish. "Why not?" she asked, with a guileless face. "Why," said he, "it's wonderful. Does she look like you?" "Exactly," said Mrs. Nevis. "Same red hair, same eyes, nose, and faint spells--only," and there was a certain arch quality in her clear voice, "_she's_ single." "And she looks exactly like you--and she's single! I don't believe it." Mrs. Nevis withdrew her hand from his arm. When they had reached the door of the Great Tower she stopped. "If you care for a line to my sister," she said, "I'll write it. You can wait here." "I wish it of all things, and if there are any stairs to climb, mind you take your time. Remember you're not very good at hills." When she had gone, he smiled his enigmatic smile and began to walk slowly up and down in front of the door, his hands clasped behind his back. Once he made a remark. "Scotland," he said, "is the place for me." But when at length she returned with the letter, he did not offer her money; instead he offered his hand. "You've been very kind," he said, "and when I meet your mistress I will tell her how very courteous you have been. Thank you." He placed the letter in the breast-pocket of his shooting-coat. "Any messages for your sister?" he asked. "You may tell her I hope she is putting by something for a rainy day. You may tell her The McTavish is verra hard up the noo"--she smiled very charmingly in his face--"and will na' brook an extravagant table." "Do you think," said McTavish, "that your sister will get me a chance to see _The_ McTavish?" "If any one can, she can." "Good-by," he said, and once more they shook hands.