had a kind of golden shimmer. Her hat lay beside her on
the seat. Flora ran down the walk with a glad cry of "Annas!" and then
she stood up, and I saw Annas Keith.

A princess! was my first thought. I saw a tall, slight figure, a
slender white throat, a pure pale face, dark grey eyes with black
lashes, and a soul in them. Some people have no souls in their eyes,
Annas Keith has.

Yet I could not have said then, and I cannot say now, when I try to
recall her picture in my mind's eye, whether Annas Keith is beautiful.
It does not seem the right word to describe her: and yet "ugly" would be
much further off. She is one of those women about whose beauty or want
of beauty you never think unless you are trying to describe them, and
then you cannot tell what to say about it. She takes you captive.
There is a charm about her that I cannot put into words. Only it is as
different from the spell that Cecilia Osborne threw over me (at first)
as light differs from darkness. The charm about Annas feels as if it
lifted me higher, into a purer air. Whenever I had been long with
Cecilia, my mind felt soiled, as if I had been breathing bad air.

When Flora introduced me, Miss Keith turned and kissed me, and I felt as
if I had been presented to a queen.

"We want to know you," she said. "All Flora's friends are our friends.
You will come, both of you?"

"I thank you, Miss Keith," said I. "I should like to come very much."

"Annas, please," she said quietly, with that sweet smile of hers. It is
only when she smiles that she reminds me of her brother.

"And how are the Laird and Lady Monksburn?" said Flora.

I did not know that the Laird (as they always seem to call the squires
here) had been a titled gentleman: and I said so. Annas smiled.

"Our titles will seem odd to you," said she. "We call a Scots gentleman
by the name of his estate, and every laird's wife is `Lady'--only by
custom and courtesy, you understand. My mother really is only Mrs
Keith, but you will hear everybody call her Lady Monksburn."

"Then if my father were here, they would call him--" I hesitated, and
Flora ended the sentence for me.

"The Laird of Brocklebank; and if you had a mother she would be Lady
Brocklebank."

I thought it sounded rather pleasant.

"And when is Duncan coming home?" asked Flora.

"To-morrow, or the day after, we hope," said Annas.

I noticed that she had less of the Scots accent than Flora; and Mr
Keith has it sc