st that
if she could only hear the master going upstairs to bed, she might go to
sleep.

But though she listened hard as she lay there in the oppressive dark,
she heard not another sound so long as she kept awake, and that was for
some time, she thought. She did get off at last and had been asleep she
knew not how long when she awoke drowsily with a confused impression
that the front door had been shut again. How late it was she could but
guess--about three or four in the morning her instinct told her. But
then came sleep again and in the morning the last part of her
recollections was a little uncertain.

At breakfast the master was as silently formidable as ever and he never
said a word about his visitor. When Mary went to the top floor later the
papers were off the doors and the keys replaced.

VII

THE DRIVE HOME

Under the grey autumnal sky Miss Cicely Farmond drove out of the town
wrapped in Ned Cromarty's overcoat. He assured her he never felt cold,
and as she glanced a little shyly up at the strapping figure by her
side, she said to herself that he certainly was the toughest looking man
of her acquaintance, and she felt a little less contrition for the loan.
She was an independent young lady and from no one else would she have
accepted such a favour, but the laird of Stanesland had such an off-hand
authoritative way with him that, somewhat to her own surprise, she had
protested--and submitted.

The trap was a high dog cart and the mare a flier.

"What a splendid horse!" she exclaimed as they spun up the first hill.

"Isn't she?" said Ned. "And she can go all the way like this, too."

Cicely was therefore a little surprised when at the next hill this flier
was brought to a walk.

"I thought we were going all the way like that!" she laughed.

Ned glanced down at her.

"Are you in a hurry?" he enquired.

"Not particularly," she admitted.

"No more am I," said he, and this time he smiled down at her in a very
friendly way.

So far they had talked casually on any indifferent subject that came to
hand, but now his manner grew a little more intimate.

"Are you going to stay on with the Cromartys long?" he asked.

"I am wondering myself," she confessed.

"I hope you will," he said bluntly.

"It is very kind of you to say so," she said smiling at him a little
shyly.

"I mean it. The fact is, Miss Farmond, you are a bit of a treat."

The quaintness of the phrase was irresistible and she