ross the lawn, and as a smile of recognition lit up the
intelligent fine face, these critics sitting there must have
acknowledged that Gertrude White was a singularly pretty woman. And then
the fascination of that low-toned voice! She began to explain to Macleod
why they were so late: some trifling accident had happened to Carry. But
as these simple, pathetic tones told him the story, his heart was filled
with a great gentleness and pity towards that poor victim of misfortune.
He was struck with remorse because he had sometimes thought harshly of
the poor child on account of a mere occasional bit of pertness. His
first message from the Highlands would be to her.

"O, Willie brew'd a peck o'maut,"

the band played merrily, as the gay company took their seats at the long
banquet-table, Macleod leading in the prim old dame who had placed her
house at his disposal. There was a blaze of light and color in this
spacious marquee. Bands of scarlet took the place of oaken rafters;
there were huge blocks of ice on the table, each set in a miniature lake
that was filled with white water-lilies; there were masses of flowers
and fruit from one end to the other; and by the side of each _menu_ lay
a tiny nosegay, in the centre of which was a sprig of bell-heather. This
last was a notion of Macleod's amiable hostess; she had made up those
miniature bouquets herself. But she had been forestalled in the pretty
compliment. Macleod had not seen much of Miss Gertrude White in the cold
twilight outside. Now, in this blaze of yellow light, he turned his eyes
to her, as she sat there demurely flirting with an old admiral of
ninety-two, who was one of Macleod's special friends. And what was that
flower she wore in her bosom--the sole piece of color in the costume of
white? That was no sprig of blood-red bell-heather, but a bit of real
heather--of the common ling; and it was set amidst a few leaves of
juniper. Now, the juniper is the badge of the Clan Macleod. She wore it
next her heart.

There was laughter, and wine, and merry talking.

"Last May a braw wooer,"

the band played now; but they scarcely listened.

"Where is your piper, Sir Keith?" said Lady Beauregard.

"At this moment," said he, "I should not wonder if he was down at the
shore, waiting for me."

"You are going away quite soon, then?"

"To-morrow. But I don't wish to speak of it. I should like to-night to
last forever."

Lady Beauregard was interrupted by her n