"It is, really and truly," he repeated, looking at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "So that's your way of looking at it, Miss Heather, and you think her ladyship will approve of my playing golf, and you think she'll approve of my absenting myself from her for long hours every day?" "Oh, I don't know--oh, I can't bear it!" I said. My voice was choked, there came a lump in my throat. After a moment I said, in a totally different sort of voice: "We'll walk slowly, darling. Darling, I understand." "Bless the child! of course she understands," he replied, and he squeezed my arm in his old, affectionate manner. Thank God! we were on the top at last. The beautiful fresh air came towards us, laden with salt from the sea, laden with freshness, and purity, and beauty. My father's tired eyes brightened; he stretched himself and looked about him. There was a lot of sunshine flooding the place, and there was no sort of shade, but neither he nor I minded that. "Come where the heather is most purple," I said. "Now, here--here's a bed for you and another for me. Stretch yourself; I'll lie close to you. Isn't it just lovely?" "Upon my word, it is, Heather; it's heavenly." "Daddy, I wonder sometimes why you called me Heather?" "It was your mother's wish--your first mother, I mean." "Oh, father, I could not have two mothers; you know that it would be impossible!" "So it would. Well, it was your mother's--your real mother's wish. Fact is, she was very ill when you were born, and there was a bit of Scotch blood in her; she had lived in Aberdeenshire. She was all Aberdeen in every sort of way, through and through, in her nature, I mean; canny, and straight and true, like the real, best Scotch folks. After you were born she had a sort of fever, and she saw purple heather all around her--the heather of the moors. So she begged of me to call the child 'Heather,' and I did. You are called after the moors in Aberdeenshire--a very respectable sort of ancestress, too, eh, Heather, my love, eh, eh?" "Yes, father." My father had now recovered his breath; he sat upright and looked at me; he took my hand. "I have something to say to you," was his remark. I looked back at him and nodded. Our joyful time together was over now; our time of pain had begun. I knew this fact quite well. I nodded to him emphatically. "And I have something to say to you." "Well, Heather, I, being the elder, have the privilege of my years, have I not?" "You have," I said. I was glad of this. I was a coward at that moment, and wanted to put off the evil day. "Well, now, little girl, a straight question requires a straight answer. Why did you leave your mother's house and mine yesterday, and go away without saying a word to anybody? Do you think you acted kindly or well to Lady Helen or myself?" "I acted as I only could act under the circumstances," was my reply. "But tell me why, Heather."