At the same moment Meenie Douglas was in her own little room, engaged on a work of art of a not very ambitious kind. She had lying before her on the table a pencil-sketch in outline of such features of the landscape as could be seen from the window—the loch, the wooded promontories, Ben Clebrig, and the little clump of trees that sheltered the inn; and she was engaged in making a smaller copy of this drawing, in pen and ink, on a paper-cutter of brown wood. She was not much of an artist, perhaps; but surely these simple outlines were recognisable; and if they were to be entitled ’_A Souvenir_,’ and carried away to the south as a little parting present, might they not in some idle moment of the future recall some brief memory of these northern wilds? So she was at work on this task—and very careful that the lines should be clear and precise—when she heard the sound of voices without—or rather one voice, which presently she recognised to be Ronald’s: she could not easily mistake it. And if she were to go to the window and get him to stop for a minute, at the gate, and show him the sketch that she had just about finished—perhaps he would be pleased? She went to the window—but instantly drew back. She had just caught a glimpse: it was the American young lady he was walking with—at a time when he was supposed to be so busy; and he was carrying her rod for her and her ulster as well as the salmon; and they were laughing and gaily talking together, like a pair of lovers almost on this clear spring day. Meenie went slowly back to the table—her face perhaps a trifle paler than usual; and she sate down, and began to look at the little drawing that she had been rather proud of. But her lips were proud and firm. Why should she give a drawing to any one—more especially to one who was so ready with his friendship and so quick to consort with strangers? The lines on the brown wood seemed cold and uninteresting; she was no longer anxious that they should suggest an accurate picture; nay, she pushed the thing away from her, and rose, and went back to the window, and stood idly gazing out there, her lips still proud, her mien defiant.