This morning it was so fine and frosty a kind of devil seemed to creep into me. I have been _so_ good since Saturday, so when Malcolm said, in his usual prim, priggish voice, “Miss Travers, may I have the pleasure of taking you for a little exercise,” I jumped up without consulting Lady Katherine, and went and put my things on, and we started. I had a feeling that they were all thinking I was doing something wrong, and so, of course, it made me worse. I said every kind of simple thing I could to Malcolm to make him jump, and looked at him now and then from under my eyelashes. So when we got to a stile, he did want to help me! and his eyes were quite wobblish! He has a giggle right up in the treble, and it comes out at such unexpected moments, when there is nothing to laugh at. I suppose it is being Scotch, he has just caught the meaning of some former joke. There would never be any use in saying things to him like to Lord Robert and Mr. Carruthers, because one would have left the place before he understood, if even then. There was an old Sir Thomas Farquharson who came to Branches, and he grasped the deepest jokes of Mrs. Carruthers, so deep that even I did not understand them, and he was Scotch. It may be they are like that only when they have red hair. When I was seated on top of a stile, Malcolm suddenly announced, “I hear you are going to London when you go. I hope you will let me come and see you, but I wish you lived here always.” “I don’t,” I said, and then I remembered that sounded rather rude, and they had been kind to me. “At least--you know, I think the country is dull--don’t you--for always?” “Yes,” he replied, primly, “for men, but it is where I should always wish to see the woman I respected.” “Are towns so wicked?” I asked, in my little angel voice. “Tell me of their pitfalls, so that I may avoid them.” “You must not believe everything people say to you, to begin with,” he said, seriously. “For one so young as you, I am afraid you will find your path beset with temptations.” “Oh! do tell me what!” I implored. “I have always wanted to know what temptations were. Please tell me. If you come to see me--would you be a temptation, or is temptation a thing, and not a person?” I looked at him so beseechingly, he never for a second saw the twinkle in my eye! He coughed pompously. “I expect I should be,” he said, modestly. “Temptations are--er--er--Oh! I say, you know, I say--I don’t know what to say----” “Oh, what a pity!” I said, regretfully. “I was hoping to hear all about it from you--specially if you are one yourself, you must know----” He looked gratified, but still confused. “You see when you are quite alone in London, some man may make love to you.” “Oh! do you think so _really_?” I asked, aghast. “That, I suppose would be frightful, if I were by myself in the room! Would it be all right, do you think, if I left the sitting-room door open, and kept Véronique on the other side?”