," said I, "because of your guilty conscience."

"Perhaps so. But it seemed to me that we stood by the well in silence a
very long time. You see, Cousin Malcolm, I was not the one who should
speak first. I had done more than my part in going to meet him."

"Decidedly so," said I, interrupting the interesting narrative.

"When I could bear the gaze of the villagers no longer, I drew up my reins
and started to leave The Open by the north road. After Dolcy had climbed
halfway up North Hill, which as you know overlooks the village, I turned
my head and saw Sir John still standing by the well, resting his hand upon
his horse's mane. He was watching me. I grew angry, and determined that he
should follow me, even if I had to call him. So I drew Dolcy to a stand.
Was not that bold in me? But wait, there is worse to come, Malcolm. He did
not move, but stood like a statue looking toward me. I knew that he wanted
to come, so after a little time I--I beckoned to him and--and then he came
like a thunderbolt. Oh! it was delicious. I put Dolcy to a gallop, for
when he started toward me I was frightened. Besides I did not want him to
overtake me till we were out of the village. But when once he had started,
he did not wait. He was as swift now as he had been slow, and my heart
throbbed and triumphed because of his eagerness, though in truth I was
afraid of him. Dolcy, you know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with
the whip she soon put half a mile between me and the village. Then I
brought her to a walk and--and he quickly overtook me.

"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though I ardently
wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you should hate me.
Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not disclose to you my identity.
I am John Manners. Our fathers are enemies.'

"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you. I wished
you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I regret and
deplore the feud between our fathers.'--'Ah, you wished me to come?' he
asked.--'Of course I did,' I answered, 'else why should I be here?'--'No
one regrets the feud between our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John.
'I can think of nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by
night. It is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come
into my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was right.
His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and