here. Even as David Granton, with far more reason for
coming, he wouldn't put himself in our power: he preferred the
security and freedom of the Cromarty Arms."

"Sey," my brother-in-law said sententiously, "you're incorrigible.
You _will_ persist in being the slave of prepossessions. He may
have some good reason of his own for accepting. Wait till he shows
his hand--and then, we shall understand everything."

So for the next three weeks the Forbes-Gaskells formed part of the
house-party at Seldon. I must say, Charles paid them most assiduous
attention. He positively neglected his other guests in order to keep
close to the two new-comers. Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell noticed the fact,
and commented on it. "You are really too good to us, Sir Charles,"
she said. "I'm afraid you allow us quite to monopolise you!"

But Charles, gallant as ever, replied with a smile, "We have
you with us for so short a time, you know!" Which made Mrs.
Forbes-Gaskell blush again that delicious blush of hers.

During all this time the Professor went on calmly and persistently
mineralogising. "Wonderful character!" Charles said to me. "He works
out his parts so well! Could anything exceed the picture he gives
one of scientific ardour?" And, indeed, he was at it, morning, noon,
and night. "Sooner or later," Charles observed, "something practical
must come of it."

Twice, meanwhile, little episodes occurred which are well worth
notice. One day I was out with the Professor on the Long Mountain,
watching him hammer at the rocks, and a little bored by his
performance, when, to pass the time, I asked him what a particular
small water-worn stone was. He looked at it and smiled. "If there
were a little more mica in it," he said, "it would be the
characteristic gneiss of ice-borne boulders, hereabouts. But
there isn't _quite_ enough." And he gazed at it curiously.

"Indeed," I answered, "it doesn't come up to sample, doesn't it?"

He gave me a meaning look. "Ten per cent," he murmured in a slow,
strange voice; "ten per cent is more usual."

I trembled violently. Was he bent, then, upon ruining me? "If you
betray me--" I cried, and broke off.

"I beg your pardon," he said. He was all pure innocence.

I reflected on what Charles had said about taking nothing for
granted, and held my tongue prudently.

The other incident was this. Charles picked a sprig of white heather
on the hill one afternoon, after a picnic lunch, I regret to say,
when he had tak