ur or two in
Inverness. You might go in to Mr. Watson's and ask him to send me out a
few more flies--if you have plenty of time, that is."

"I shall be delighted," said he, as if she had conferred the greatest
favor on him.

"Well, good-bye--I mustn't keep you late for the train."

"But we shall meet in the South?"

"I hope so," she said, in a very amiable and friendly fashion; and she
stood waiting there until he had got into the wagonette, and until the
horses had splashed their way across the ford; then she waved her hand
to him, and, with a parting smile, turned down the stream again, to
rejoin Robert and pick up her rod.

Nor was this quite the last he was to see of those good friends. When
the horses had strenuously hauled the carriage up that steep hillside
and got into the level highway, he turned to look back at the Lodge, set
in the midst of the wide strath, and behold! there was a fluttering of
white handkerchiefs there, Lady Adela and her sisters and Miss Georgie
still lingering in the porch. Again and again he made response. Then, as
he drove on, he caught another glance of Miss Honnor, who, far below
him, was industriously fishing the Whirl Pool; when she heard the sound
of the wheels, she looked up and waved her hand to him as he went by.
Finally there came the crack of a gun across the wide strath; it was a
signal from the shooting-party--away on a distant hillside--and he could
just make out that they, also, were sending him a telegraphic good-bye.
At each opening through the birch-wood skirting the road he answered
these farewells, until Strathaivron Lodge was no longer in sight; and
then he settled himself in his seat and resigned himself to the long
journey.

This was not a pleasant drive. He was depressed with a vague aching and
emptiness of the heart that he could not well account for. A schoolboy
returning to his tasks after a long holiday would not be quite so
profoundly miserable--so reckless, dissatisfied, and ill at ease. But
perhaps it was the loss of one of those pleasant companions that was
troubling him? Which one, then (he made pretence of asking himself), was
he sorriest to part from? Lady Adela, who was always so bright and
talkative and cheerful, so charming a hostess, so considerate and gentle
a friend? Or the mystic-eyed Lady Sybil, who many an evening had led him
away into the wonder-land of Chopin, for she was an accomplished
pianist, if her own compositions were but feeble