! the rose-color is away from Ulva now; it is quite a dark
purple."

He turned in silence and led the way back. Behind them he could faintly
hear Mr. White discoursing to Janet Macleod about the manner in which
the old artists mixed their own pigments.

Then Macleod said, with a great gentleness and restraint,

"And when you go away from here, Gertrude, I suppose I must say
good-by to you; and no one knows when we shall see each other again. You
are returning to the theatre. If that is your wish, I would not try to
thwart it. You know best what is the highest prize the world can give
you. And how can I warn you against failure and disappointment? I know
you will be successful. I know the people will applaud you, and your
head will be filled with their praises. You are going forward to a new
triumph, Gerty; and the first step you will take will be on my heart."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

AN UNDERSTANDING.

"Pappy dear," said Miss White to her father, in a playful way, although
it was a serious sort of playfulness, "I have a vague feeling that there
is a little too much electricity in the atmosphere of this place just at
present. I am afraid there may be an explosion; and you know my nerves
can't stand much of a shock. I should be glad to get away."

By this time she had quite made up that little difference with her
father--she did not choose to be left alone at a somewhat awkward
crisis. She had told him she was sure he had not meant what he said
about her; and she had expressed her sorrow for having provoked him; and
there an end. And if Mr. White had been driven by his anger to be for
the moment the ally of Macleod, he was not disinclined to take the other
side now and let Miss White have her own will. The vast amount of
training he had bestowed on her through many long years was not to be
thrown away after all.

"I told him last night," said she, "of my having signed an engagement
till Christmas next."

"Oh, indeed!" said her father, quickly; looking at her over his
spectacles.

"Yes," said she, thoughtfully, "and he was not so disturbed or angry as
I had expected. Not at all. He was very kind about it. But I don't
understand him."

"What do you not understand?"

"He has grown so strange of late--so sombre. Once, you know, he was the
lightest-hearted young man--enjoying every minute of his life, you
know--and really, pappy, I think--"

And here Miss White stopped.

"At all events," said she, quickly,