et to Mr. Dunross. His next words set that
doubt at rest, and showed me the truth.

In thanking him for his good wishes, I attempted also to express to him
(and through him to Miss Dunross) my sincere sense of gratitude for the
kindness which I had received under his roof. He stopped me, politely
and resolutely, speaking with that quaintly precise choice of language
which I h ad remarked as characteristic of him at our first interview.

"It is in your power, sir," he said, "to return any obligation which you
may think you have incurred on leaving my house. If you will be pleased
to consider your residence here as an unimportant episode in your life,
which ends--_absolutely_ ends--with your departure, you will more than
repay any kindness that you may have received as my guest. In saying
this, I speak under a sense of duty which does entire justice to you as
a gentleman and a man of honor. In return, I can only trust to you
not to misjudge my motives, if I abstain from explaining myself any
further."

A faint color flushed his pale cheeks. He waited, with a certain proud
resignation, for my reply. I respected her secret, respected it more
resolutely than ever, before her father.

"After all that I owe to you, sir," I answered, "your wishes are my
commands." Saying that, and saying no more, I bowed to him with marked
respect, and left the house.

Mounting my pony at the door, I looked up at the center window, as she
had bidden me. It was open; but dark curtains, jealously closed, kept
out the light from the room within. At the sound of the pony's hoofs on
the rough island road, as the animal moved, the curtains were parted
for a few inches only. Through the gap in the dark draperies a wan white
hand appeared; waved tremulously a last farewell; and vanished from
my view. The curtains closed again on her dark and solitary life. The
dreary wind sounded its long, low dirge over the rippling waters of the
lake. The ponies took their places in the ferryboat which was kept
for the passage of animals to and from the island. With slow, regular
strokes the men rowed us to the mainland and took their leave. I looked
back at the distant house. I thought of her in the dark room, waiting
patiently for death. Burning tears blinded me. The guide took my bridle
in his hand: "You're not well, sir," he said; "I will lead the pony."

When I looked again at the landscape round me, we had descended in the
interval from the higher ground