s point, we must give ourselves up to quotation; and the
narrow space remaining to us is our only apology to the reader for
making any omission whatever in these extracts.

"For she confessed, as they sat in the dusk, and he saw not her
blushes,
Elspie confessed, at the sports, long ago, with her father, she
saw him,
When at the door the old man had told him the name of the Bothie;
There, after that, at the dance; yet again at the dance in Rannoch;
And she was silent, confused. Confused much rather Philip
Buried his face in his hands, his face that with blood was
bursting.
Silent, confused; yet by pity she conquered here fear, and
continued:
'Katie is good and not silly: be comforted, Sir, about her;
Katie is good and not silly; tender, but not, like many,
Carrying off, and at once, for fear of being seen, in the bosom
Locking up as in a cupboard, the pleasure that any man gives them,
Keeping it out of sight as a prize they need be ashamed of:
That is the way, I think, Sir, in England more than in Scotland.
No; she lives and takes pleasure in all, as in beautiful weather;
Sorry to lose it; but just as we would be to lose fine weather.....
There were at least five or six,--not there; no, that I don't say,
But in the country about,--you might just as well have been courting.
That was what gave me much pain; and (you won't remember that tho'),
Three days after, I met you, beside my Uncle's walking;
And I was wondering much, and hoped you wouldn't notice;
So, as I passed, I couldn't help looking. You didn't know me;
But I was glad when I heard, next day, you were gone to the teacher.'

"And, uplifting his face at last, with eyes dilated,
Large as great stars in mist, and dim with dabbled lashes.
Philip, with new tears starting,

'You think I do not remember,'
Said, 'suppose that I did not observe. Ah me! shall I tell you?
Elspie, it was your look that sent me away from Rannoch.'....
And he continued more firmly, altho' with stronger emotion.
'Elspie, why should I speak it? You cannot believe it, and should not.
Why should I say that I love, which I all but said to another?
Yet, should I dare, should I say, Oh Elspie you only I love, you,
First and sole in my life that has been, and surely that shall be;
Could, oh could, you believe it, oh Elspie, believe it, and spurn not?
Is it possible,--possible, Elspie?'

'Well,' she answe