e was no opportunity before, let me say how much we
sympathised with you and . . . thought of you.

"Do you think, however, Mr. Carmichael"--she spoke with hesitation, but
much kindness--"that you ought to fling up your work here on that
account? Would not the Rabbi himself have wished you to stick to your
post? . . . and all your friends would like to think you had been . . .
brave."

"You are cruel, Miss Carnegie; you try me beyond what I can endure,
although I shall be ashamed to-night for what I am to say. Do you not
know or guess that it is your . . . on account of you, I mean, that I
must leave Drumtochty?"

"On account of me?" Kate looked at him in unaffected amazement.

"Are you blind, or is it that you could not suspect me of such
presumption? Had you no idea that night in Dr. Davidson's
drawing-room? Have you never seen that I . . . Kate--I will say it
once to your face as I say it every hour to myself--you won my heart in
an instant on Muirtown Station, and will hold it till I die.

"Do not speak till I be done, and then order me from your presence as I
deserve, I know that it is unworthy of a gentleman, and . . . a
minister of Christ to say such things to the betrothed of another man;
only one minute more"--for Kate had started as if in anger--"I know
also that if I were stronger I could go on living as before, and meet
you from time to time when you came from the Castle with your husband,
and never allow myself to think of Lady Hay as I felt to Miss Carnegie.
But I am afraid of myself, and . . . this is the last time we shall
meet, Miss Carnegie. Forgive me for my love, and believe that one man
will ever remember and . . . pray for you."

Carmichael bowed low, the last sunshine of the evening playing on his
fair hair, and turned to go.

"One word, if you please," said Kate, and they looked into one
another's eyes, the blue and brown, seeing many things that cannot be
written. "You may be forgiven for . . . loving me, because you could
not help that"--this with a very roguish look, our Kate all over--"and
I suppose you must be forgiven for listening to foolish gossip, since
people will tell lies"--this with a stamp of the foot, our Kate
again--"but I shall never forgive you if you leave me, never"--this was
a new Kate, like to the opening of a flower.

"Why? Tell me plainly," and in the silence Carmichael heard a trout
leap in the river.

"Because I love you."

The Tochty water sang a p