e followed no plan.
It came rather from pique. It was almost as though she had asked him
whether Miss Boncassen was to have the ring.

"What makes you say that?"

"But it would."

"Yes, it would," he replied stoutly, turning round as he lay on the
ground and facing her.

"Has it come to that?"

"Come to what? You ask me a question and I answer you truly."

"You cannot be happy without her?"

"I did not say so. You ask me whether I should like to have her
here,--and I say Yes. What would you think of me if I said No?"

"My being here is not enough?" This should not have been said, of
course, but the little speech came from the exquisite pain of the
moment. She had meant to have said hardly anything. She had intended
to be happy with him, just touching lightly on things which might
lead to that attack which must be made on the morrow. But words
will often lead whither the speaker has not intended. So it was now,
and in the soreness of her heart she spoke. "My being here is not
enough?"

"It would be enough," he said, jumping on his feet, "if you
understood all, and would be kind to me."

"I will at any rate be kind to you," she replied, as she sat upon the
bank looking at the running water.

"I have asked Miss Boncassen to be my wife."

"And she has accepted?"

"No; not as yet. She is to take three months to think of it. Of
course I love her best of all. If you will sympathise with me in
that, then I will be as happy with you as the day is long."

"No," said she, "I cannot. I will not."

"Very well."

"There should be no such marriage. If you have told me in
confidence--"

"Of course I have told you in confidence."

"It will go no farther; but there can be no sympathy between us.
It--it--it is not,--is not--" Then she burst into tears.

"Mabel!"

"No, sir, no; no! What did you mean? But never mind. I have no
questions to ask, not a word to say. Why should I? Only this,--that
such a marriage will disgrace your family. To me it is no more than
to anybody else. But it will disgrace your family."

How she got back to the house she hardly knew; nor did he. That
evening they did not again speak to each other, and on the following
morning there was no walk to the mountains. Before dinner he drove
himself back to Crummie-Toddie, and when he was taking his leave she
shook hands with him with her usual pleasant smile.

CHAPTER XLIII

What Happened at Doncaster

The Leger this year was to b