nswered, looking down. "You had a bad
return for your kindness to me then."

"Oh, I know," he said carelessly. "And I suppose Mr. Lavender wished you
to cut me after my impertinent interference. But things are very much
changed now. But for the time he went North, he has been with me nearly
every hour since you left."

"Has Frank been to the Lewis?" she said suddenly, with a look of fear on
her face.

"Oh no: he has only been to Glasgow to see if you had gone to catch the
Clansman and go North from there."

"Did he take the trouble to do all that?" she asked slowly and
wistfully.

"Trouble!" cried Ingram. "He appears to me neither to eat nor sleep day
or night, but to go wandering about in search of you in every place
where he fancies you may be. I never saw a man so beside himself with
anxiety."

"I did not wish to make him anxious," said Sheila in a low voice. "Will
you tell him that I am well?"

Mrs. Lavender began to smile. Were there not evident signs of softening?
But Ingram, who knew the girl better, was not deceived by these
appearances. He could see that Sheila merely wished that her husband
should not suffer pain on her account: that was all.

"I was about to ask you," he said gently, "what I may say to him. He
comes to me continually, for he has always fancied that you would
communicate with me. What shall I say to him, Sheila?"

"You may tell him that I am well," she answered.

Mairi had by this time stepped out of the room. Sheila sat with her eyes
fixed on the floor, her fingers working nervously with a paper-knife she
held.

"Nothing more than that?" he said.

"Nothing more."

He saw by her face, and he could tell by the sound of her voice, that
her decision was resolute.

"Don't be a fool, child!" said Mrs. Lavender emphatically. "Here is your
husband's friend, who can make everything straight and comfortable for
you in an hour or two, and you quietly put aside the chance of
reconciliation and bring on yourself any amount of misery. I don't speak
for Frank. Men can take care of themselves: they have clubs and friends,
and amusements for the whole day long. But you!--what a pleasant life
you would have, shut up in a couple of rooms, scarcely daring to show
yourself at a window! Your fine sentiments are all very well, but they
won't stand in the place of a husband to you; and you will soon find out
the difference between living by yourself like that, and having some one
in the house to