that she was about to dwell in the heart of it. Something of
pride, too, was present, that she was to be the guest of a great lady,
and see something of a life which seemed infinitely remote to her
provincial thoughts. But when her journey drew near its end she was
foolishly nervous, and scanned the platform with anxious eye.

The sight of her hostess reassured her. Lady Manorwater was a small
middle-aged woman, with a thin classical face, large colourless eyes,
and untidy fair hair. She was very plainly dressed, and as she darted
forward to greet the girl with entire frankness and kindness, Alice
forgot her fears and kissed her heartily. A languid young woman was
introduced as Miss Afflint, and in a few minutes the three were in the
Glenavelin carriage with the wide glen opening in front.

"Oh, my dear, I hope you will enjoy your visit. We are quite a small
party, for Jack says Glenavelin is far too small to entertain in. You
are fond of the country, aren't you? And of course the place is very
pretty. There is tennis and golf and fishing; but perhaps you don't
like these things? We are not very well off for neighbours, but we are
large enough in number to be sufficient to ourselves. Don't you think
so, Bertha?" And Lady Manorwater smiled at the third member of the
group.

Miss Afflint, a silent girl, smiled back and said nothing. She had been
engaged in a secret study of Alice's face, and whenever the object of
the study raised her eyes she found a pair of steady blue ones beaming
on her. It was a little disconcerting, and Alice gazed out at the
landscape with a fictitious curiosity.

They passed out of the Gled valley into the narrower strath of Avelin,
and soon, leaving the meadows behind, went deep into the recesses of
woods. At a narrow glen bridged by the road and bright with the spray
of cascades and the fresh green of ferns, Alice cried out in delight,
"Oh, I must come back here some day and sketch it. What a Paradise of a
place!"

"Then you had better ask Lewie's permission." And Lady Manorwater
laughed.

"Who is Lewie?" asked the girl, anticipating some gamekeeper or
shepherd.

"Lewie is my nephew. He lives at Etterick, up at the head of the glen."

Miss Afflint spoke for the first time. "A very good man. You should
know Lewie, Miss Wishart. I'm sure you would like him. He is a great
traveller, you know, and has written a famous book. Lewis Haystoun is
his full name."

"Why, I have read it," cried