to the realities of life. 'Tis
the lover keeps this old world young. The fire of youth, of eternal
laughing youth, runs flaming through his blood. His days are radiant, his
nights enchanted."

"I am thinking you quite a poet."

"Was there ever a better subject for a poem? Life would be poetry writ
into action if all men were lovers--and all women Aileens."

"Ah, Kenneth! This fine talk I do not understand. It's sheer nonsense to
tell such idle clavers about me. Am I not just a plain Highland lassie, as
unskilled in flattering speeches as in furbelows and patches? Gin you will
play me a spring on the pipes I'll maybe can dance you the fling, but of
French minuets I have small skill."

"Call me dreamer if you will. By Helen's glove, your dreamer might be the
envy of kings. Since I have known you life has taken a different hue. One
lives for years without joy, pain, colour, all things toned to the dull
monochrome of gray, and then one day the contact with another soul
quickens one to renewed life, to more eager unselfish living. Never so
bright a sun before, never so beautiful a moon. 'Tis true, Aileen. No fear
but one, that Fate, jealous, may snatch my love from me."

Her laughter dashed my heroics; yet I felt, too, that back of her smiles
there was belief.

"I dare say. At the least I will have heard it before. The voice iss
Jacob's voice, but----"

I blushed, remembering too late that my text and its application were both
Volney's.

"'Tis true, even if Jacob said it first. If a man is worth his salt love
must purify him. Sure it must. I am a better man for knowing you."

A shy wonder filled her eyes; thankfulness too was there.

"Yet you are a man that has fought battles and known life, and I am only
an ignorant girl."

I lifted her hand and kissed it.

"You are my queen, and I am your most loyal and devoted servant."

"For always, Kenn? When you are meeting the fine ladies of London will you
love a Highland lassie that cannot make eyes and swear choicely?"

"Forever and a day, dear."

Aileen referred to the subject again two hours later when we arose from
the table at the Manchester ordinary. It was her usual custom to retire to
her room immediately after eating. To-night when I escorted her to the
door she stood for a moment drawing patterns on the lintel with her fan. A
fine blush touched her cheek.

"Were you meaning all that, Kennie?"

"All what, dear heart?"

"That--nonsense--in the forest.