ngram. "Look
here! A cheque, received this morning, for two hundred pounds, for
plate and glass."

Ingram looked at the bit of pale green paper: "I wish you had earned
the money yourself, or done without the plate until you could buy it
with your own money."

"Oh, confound it, Ingram! you carry your puritanical theories too far.
Doubtless I shall earn my own living by and by. Give me time."

"It is now nearly a year since you thought of marrying Sheila
Mackenzie, and you have not done a stroke of work yet."

"I beg your pardon. I have worked a good deal of late, as you will see
when you come up to my rooms."

"Have you sold a single picture since last summer?"

"I cannot make people buy my pictures if they don't choose to do so."

"Have you made any effort to get them sold, or to come to any
arrangement with any of the dealers?"

"I have been too busy of late--looking after this house, you know,"
said Lavender with an air of apology.

"You were not too busy to paint a fan for Mrs. Lorraine, that people
say must have occupied you for months."

Lavender laughed: "Do you know, Ingram, I think you are jealous of
Mrs. Lorraine, on account of Sheila? Come, you shall go and see her."

"No, thank you."

"Are you afraid of your Puritan principles giving way?"

"I am afraid that you are a very foolish boy," said the other with a
good-humored shrug of resignation, "but I hope to see you mend when
you marry."

"Ah, then you _will_ see a difference!" said Lavender seriously; and
so the dispute ended.

It had been arranged that Ingram should go up to Lewis to the
marriage, and after the ceremony in Stornoway return to Borva with
Mr. Mackenzie, to remain with him a few days. But at the last moment
Ingram was summoned down to Devonshire on account of the serious
illness of some near relative, and accordingly Frank Lavender started
by himself to bring back with him his Highland bride. His stay in
Borva was short enough on this occasion. At the end of it there came a
certain wet and boisterous day, the occurrences in which he afterward
remembered as if they had taken place in a dream. There were many
faces about, a confusion of tongues, a good deal of dram-drinking,
a skirl of pipes, and a hurry through the rain; but all these things
gave place to the occasional glance that he got from a pair of timid
and trusting and beautiful eyes. Yet Sheila was not Sheila in that
dress of white, with her face a trifle pale. She wa