The beauty came down in the morning pale and dim and white-lipped, like a flower that had had no water. Mercy was fresh and rosy, with a luminous mist of loveliness over her plain unfinished features. Already had they begun to change in the direction of beauty. Christina's eyes burned; in Mercy's shone something of the light by which a soul may walk and not stumble. In the eyes of both was expectation, in the eyes of the one confident, in the eyes of the other anxious. As soon as they found themselves alone together, eyes sought eyes, and met in understanding. They had not made confidantes of each other, each guessed well, and was well guessed at. They did not speculate; they understood. In like manner, Mercy and Alister understood each other, but not Christina and Ian. Neither of these knew the feelings of the other. Without a word they rose, put on their hats, left the house, and took the road toward the valley. About half-way to the root of the ridge, they came in sight of the ruined castle; Mercy stopped with a little cry. "Look! Chrissy!" she said, pointing. On the corner next them, close by the pepper-pot turret, sat the two men, in what seemed to loving eyes a dangerous position, but to the mountaineers themselves a comfortable coin of vantage. The girls thought, "They are looking out for us!" but Ian was there only because Alister was there. The men waved their bonnets. Christina responded with her handkerchief. The men disappeared from their perch, and were with the ladies before they reached the ridge. There was no embarrassment on either side, though a few cheeks were rosier than usual. To the chief, Mercy was far beyond his memory of her. Not her face only, but her every movement bore witness to a deeper pleasure, a greater freedom in life than before. "Why were you in such a dangerous place?" asked Christina. "We were looking out for you," answered Alister. "From there we could see you the moment you came out." "Why didn't you come and meet us then?" "Because we wanted to watch you coming." "Spies!--I hope, Mercy, we were behaving ourselves properly! I had no idea we were watched!" "We thought you had quarrelled; neither said a word to the other." Mercy looked up; Christina looked down. "Could you hear us at that height?" asked Mercy. "How could we when there was not a word to hear!" "How did you know we were silent?" "We might have known by the way you walked," replied Alister. "But if you had spoken we should have heard, for sound travels far among the mountains!" "Then I think it was a shame!" said Christina. "How could you tell that we might not object to your hearing us?" "We never thought of that!" said Alister. "I am very sorry. We shall certainly not be guilty again!" "What men you are for taking everything in downright earnest!" cried Christina; "--as if we could have anything to say we should wish YOU not to hear?"