k, I'm rather doubtful whether she thinks Andrew
the nicest man in the world."

"But--but--surely she--er--I mean, they are engaged."

"Frank, my boy, not a word of this to a soul--not even to Jean or Lucas.
I may be wrong, and I don't want to make mischief; but I have a strong
suspicion there's another fellow."

"What kind of fellow?"

"A rival."

"Good God!" cried Frank. "Who the devil is he?"

"Hush, hush--not so violently, my dear fellow. It's pretty sickening, of
course; but till you know who he is, you can't knock him down."

"Well, then, tell me who he is."

"That's just what I'd like to know myself. It's some one in Perthshire."

"How do you know?" demanded Frank.

He controlled his voice, but in his eyes burned a light that boded ill
for his brother's rival when he caught him.

"Well, you can judge for yourself how I know. Andrew noticed the change
in Ellen's manner the first time he saw her after she'd been staying
with us. The only fellow she met in Edinburgh was yourself, so it must
be some one in Perthshire."

The militant Highlander fell back in his chair with a gasp, and the
light of battle died out of his eyes.

"Don't you agree with me?" asked his father.

"I--er--I don't know," he stammered.

Mr. Walkingshaw had grown none the less shrewd as his weight of years
was lightened.

"Eh?" he demanded quickly, "what do you know about it? Be perfectly
frank with me."

"But why should you think that--er--I--"

"Tell me this--do you know of any one who's been paying attention to
Ellen Berstoun?"

Poor Frank's color grew deeper and deeper.

"There--there was one fellow, I'm ashamed to say."

"Ashamed? Why should you be ash--" Mr. Walkingshaw broke off suddenly
and gazed at his son with very wide-open eyes. "Frank--it was yourself!"

The treacherous brother hung his head. And then, in the depths of his
penitence, he heard these extraordinary words--

"My dear, dear chap, this is almost too good to be true!"

"Too _good_!" gasped Frank.

"What did you do--kiss her?"

"No, no; not so bad as that!"

"You let her know, though? There's no mistake about that, eh?"

"I'm afraid I did."

His father took his hand.

"She is yours," said he.

"_Mine?_ But, my dear father, she is Andrew's!"

"She was; but he's such a perfect sumph, I'm thankful she's got quit
of him."

"What! Is it broken off?"

"It will be."

"An engagement?"

"What's an engagement? Speaking as a lawyer of ma