"It is always the way with girls," says the other, with a cruel cynicism. "Whether they say ’Yes’ or ’No’ they are sure to cry over it. And naturally; for whether they say ’Yes’ or ’No,’ they are sure to have made an irretrievable blunder." The Laird is slowly recovering from his first shock of surprise. "But if she did refuse him, surely that is what any one would have expected? There is nothing singular in that." "Pardon me; I think there is something very singular," she says, warmly. "I don’t see how any one could have been with these two up in the north, and not perceived that there was an understanding between them. If any girl ever encouraged a man, she did. Why, sir, when you proposed that your nephew should come with us, and make love to Mary, I said ’Yes’ because I thought it would be merely a joke! I thought he would please you by consenting, and not harm anybody else. But now it has turned out quite different; and Angus Sutherland has gone away." And at this there was a return of the proud and hurt look into her eyes: Angus was her friend; she had not expected this idle boy would have supplanted him. The Laird was greatly disturbed. The beautiful picture that he had been painting for himself during this summer idleness of ours—filling in the details with a lingering and loving care—seemed to fade away into impalpable mist; and he was confronted by blank chaos. And this, too, just at the moment when the departure of the Doctor appeared to render all his plans doubly secure.—He rose. "I will think over it, ma’am," he said, slowly. "I am obliged to ye for your information: perhaps I was not as observant as I should have been." Then she sought to stay him for a moment. "Don’t you think, sir," said she, timidly, "it would be better for neither you nor me to interfere?" The Laird turned. "I made a promise to the lass," said he, quite simply, "one night we were in Loch Leven, and she and I were walking on the deck, that when she was in trouble I would try to help her; and I will not break my promise through any fear of being called an intermeddler. I will go to the girl myself—when I have the opportunity; and if she prefers to keep her own counsel—if she thinks I am only an old Scotch fool who should be minding my own business—I will not grumble." And again he was going away, when again she detained him. "I hope you do not think I spoke harshly of Mary," said she, penitentially. "I own that I was a little disappointed. And it seemed so certain. But I am sure she has sufficient reason for whatever she has done—and that she believes she is acting rightly——" "Of that there is no doubt," said he, promptly. "The girl has just a wonderful clear notion of doing what she ought to do; and nothing would make her flinch." Then he added, after a second, "But I will think over it; and then go to herself. Perhaps she feels lonely, and does not know that there is a home awaiting her at Denny-mains."