she said, looking down.

They rang a bell outside.

"Good-by, then."

He tightly grasped the hand he held; once more he gazed into those clear
and confiding eyes--with an almost piteously anxious look: then he
kissed her and hurried away. But she was bold enough to follow. Her eyes
were very moist. Her heart was beating fast. If Glenogie had there and
then challenged her, and said, "_Come, then, sweetheart; will you fly
with me? And the proud mother will meet you. And the gentle cousin will
attend on you. And Castle Dare will welcome the young bride!_"--what
would she have said? The moment was over. She only saw the train go
gently away from the station; and she saw the piteous eyes fixed on
hers; and while he was in sight she waved her handkerchief. When the
train had disappeared she turned away with a sigh.

"Poor fellow," she was thinking to herself, "he is very much in
earnest--far more in earnest than even poor Howson. It would break my
heart if I were to bring him any trouble."

By the time she had got to the end of the platform, her thoughts had
taken a more cheerful turn.

"Dear me," she was saying to herself, "I quite forgot to ask him whether
my Gaelic was good!"

When she had got into the street outside, the day was brightening.

"I wonder," she was asking herself, "whether Carry would come and look
at that exhibition of water-colors; and what would the cab fare be?"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A DISCLOSURE.

And now he was all eagerness to brave the first dragon in his way--the
certain opposition of this proud old lady at Castle Dare. No doubt she
would stand aghast at the mere mention of such a thing; perhaps in her
sudden indignation she might utter sharp words that would rankle
afterwards in the memory. In any case he knew the struggle would be
long, and bitter, and harassing; and he had not the skill of speech to
persuasively bend a woman's will. There was another way--impossible,
alas!--he had thought of. If only he could have taken Gertrude White by
the hand--if only he could have led her up the hall, and presented her
to his mother, and said, "Mother, this is your daughter; is she not fit
to be the daughter of so proud a mother?"--the fight would have been
over. How could any one withstand the appeal of those fearless and
tender clear eyes?

Impatiently he waited for the end of dinner on the evening of his
arrival; impatiently he heard Donald the piper lad, play the brave
Salute--the wi