ve out his
time in the desolate home. But when he had got about twenty paces from
her he remembered that he had said no farewell, and turned, looked back,
and came to her again, his heart beating like a boy's.

She stood where he had left her, sullen, with head slightly bent, and
tearing the same leaves. Bates recognised her beauty to the full, as
much as any other man could have done, but it only hurt him and made him
afraid. He looked at her, timid as a child, yet manfully ignoring his
timidity, he tried to smile to her as he said,

"Bairn, I may never see ye in this world again; give your old teacher a
kiss."

Eliza stared, then lent her face to be kissed. She was surprised at the
gentleness of his sparing caress, so surprised that when she lifted her
head she stood stock still and watched him till he was out of sight,
for, driven by the scourge of his feeling, he went away from her with
quick, upright gait, never looking back.

She watched him till he disappeared into Trenholme's house. When she
walked home she did not sob or wipe her eyes or cover her face, yet when
she got to the hotel her eyes were swollen and red, and she went about
her work heedless that anyone who looked at her must see the
disfigurement of tears.

CHAPTER XIV.

In the latter part of that day Bates suffered a fierce attack of his
malady. Everyone in Trenholme's house, including the master himself on
crutches, became agile in their desire to alleviate the suffering, and
he received their ministrations with that civility which denoted that,
had conventionality allowed, he would not have received them; for to
fling all that is given him at the heads of the givers is undoubtedly
the conduct that nature suggests to a man in pain. Having need, however,
of some help, Bates showed now, as before, an evident preference for
Alec as an attendant, a preference due probably to the fact that Alec
never did anything for him that was not absolutely necessary, and did
that only in the most cursory way. When Alec entered his room that
night to see, as he cheerfully remarked, whether he was alive or not,
Bates turned his face from the wall.

"I think it right to tell ye," he began, and his tone and manner were so
stiff that the other knew something painful was coming, "I think it
right to tell ye that Eliza Cameron is alive and well. I have seen her."

In his annoyance to think a meeting had occurred Alec made an
exclamation that served very we