"I hope that you aren't implying that I might prove indiscreet." "Oh, dear no!" said McTavish. "It had a look of it, then," said Miss MacNish tartly. "Oh," said McTavish, "if I've hurt your feelings--why, I'll go on with what I began, and take the consequences, shall I?" "I think," said Miss MacNish primly, "that it would tend to restore confidence between us." "When I meet her, then," said McTavish, "I shall first tell her that she is beautiful, and amusing, and good. And then," it came from him in a kind of eager, boyish outburst, "I shall ask her to marry me." Miss MacNish gasped and stepped backward into the fine and deep soil that gave the larkspur its inches. The color left her cheeks and returned upon the instant tenfold. And it was many moments before she could find a word to speak. Then she said in an injured and astonished tone: "_Why?_" "The Scotch Scot," said McTavish, "is shrewd, but cautious. The American Scot is shrewd, but daring. Caution, you'll admit, is a pitiful measure in an affair of the heart." Miss MacNish was by this time somewhat recovered from her consternation. "Well," said she, "what then? When you have come upon The McTavish unawares somewhere in the shrubbery, and asked her to marry you, and she has boxed your ears for you--what then?" "Then," said McTavish with a kind of anticipatory expression of pleasure, "I shall kiss her. Even if she hated it," he said ruefully, "she couldn't help but be surprised and flattered." Miss MacNish took a step forward with a sudden hilarious brightening in her eyes. "Are you quizzing me," she said, "or are you outlining your honest and mad intentions? And if the latter, won't you tell me why? Why, in heaven's name, should you ask The McTavish to marry you--at first sight?" "I can't explain it," said McTavish. "But even if I never have seen her--I love her." "I have heard of love at first sight--" began Miss MacNish. But he interrupted eagerly. "You haven't ever experienced it, have you?" "Of course, I haven't," she exclaimed indignantly. "I've heard of it--_often_. But I have never heard of love without any sight at all." "Love is blind," said McTavish. "Now, who's quibbling?" "Just because," he said, "you've never heard of a thing, away off here in your wild Highlands, is a mighty poor proof that it doesn't exist. I suppose you don't believe in predestination. I've always known," he said grandly, "that I should marry my cousin--even against her will and better judgment. You don't more than half believe me, do you?" "Well, not more than half," Miss MacNish smiled. "It's the truth," he said; "I will bet you ten pounds it's the truth." Miss MacNish looked at him indignantly, and in the midst of the look she sighed. "I don't bet," said she. McTavish lowered his glance until it rested upon his own highly polished brown boots. "Why are you looking at your boots?" asked Miss MacNish.