with erect head and
bright eyes, leaving a penitent boy behind; while all the time a sick,
longing heart drove her to the edge of tears.

The days dragged slowly for the girl. The brightness had gone out of
the wide, airy landscape, and the warm August days seemed chill. She
hated herself for the wrong impression she had left on the boy Arthur's
mind, but she was too proud to seek to erase it; she could but trust to
his honour for silence. If Lewis heard--the thought was too terrible to
face! He would resign himself to the inevitable; she knew the temper of
the man. Good form was his divinity, and never by word or look would he
attempt to win another man's betrothed. She must see him and learn the
truth: but he came no more to Glenavelin, and Etterick was a far cry for
a girl's fancy. Besides, the Twelfth had come and the noise of guns on
every hill spoke of other interests for the party at Etterick. Lewis
had forgotten his misfortunes, she told herself, and in the easy way of
the half-hearted found in bodily fatigue a drug for a mind but little in
need of it.

One afternoon Lady Manorwater came over the lawn waving a letter. "Do
you want to go and picnic to-morrow, Alice?" she cried. "Lewis is to
be shooting on the moors at the head of the Avelin, and he wants us to
come and lunch at the Pool of Ness. He wants the whole party to come,
particularly Mr. Stocks, and he wants to know if you have forgiven him.
What can the boy mean?"

As the cheerful little lady paused, Alice's heart beat till she feared
betrayal. A sudden fierce pleasure burned in her veins. Did he still
seek her good opinion? Was he, as well as herself, miserable alone?
And then came like a stab the thought that he had joined her with
Stocks. Did he class her with that alien world of prigs and dullards?
She ceased to think, and avoiding her hostess and tea, ran over the
wooden bridge to the slope of hill and climbed up among the red heather.

A month ago she had been heart-whole and young, a simple child. The
same prejudices and generous beliefs had been hers, but held loosely
with a child's comprehension. But now this old world had been awakened
to arms against a dazzling new world of love and pleasure. She was led
captive by emotion, but the cold rook of scruple remained. She had read
of women surrendering all for love, but she felt dismally that this
happy gift had been denied her. Criticism, a fierce, vulgar antagonism,
impervious to sentiment