hind them in the narrow pathway for a moment, and it was then
that a tall figure loomed up beside her out of the darkness, and a
musical voice with a slow Highland accent that it was impossible to
mistake, repeated the proper formula.

"May I see you home, Christine?"

Christina stopped short in the pathway. Never in all her nineteen
years had she been asked that momentous question; the opening note of
all country romances. She had heard it sounded on every side for years
but its music had always passed her by. She had begun to wonder just a
little wistfully, when she would hear it. And now here it was! But,
alas, like her first birthday gift, it had came from an unwelcome
source!

But she answered quite cordially, being incapable of deliberately
wounding any one, and Gavin gave a deep breath of relief as he took his
place at her side. He was too shy to take her arm in the approved
fashion, as all young men did when seeing a young woman to her home.
Instead he left a foot or two between them as they walked up the hill
under the stars in the warm scented darkness.

Christina tried to chat, but Gavin was so overcome with the wonder of
seeing her home, that he could not talk. He longed for some deadly
peril to threaten her so that he might be her protector, some
catastrophe that he might avert.

He was fairly aching to tell her that his great ambition was to be her
Warrior Bold, and ride out to do doughty deeds for her sweet sake; that
she was his Love so young and fair, of whom he had been singing, with
eyes so blue and heart so true; but instead, he walked dumbly by her
side, keeping carefully a yard away from her, and answering her
laborious attempts at conversation with only a word. For Gavin was one
of the inarticulate poets of earth, a mute, inglorious Lovelace, with a
heart burdened with unsung lines to his Lucasta on going to the wars.

They had come to one of their prolonged seasons of silence, when
Christina discovered that they were strolling slowly behind Old Johnnie
McKenzie, Bruce's father, and Mr. Sinclair who was seeing him a piece
of the way home, for the purpose of rejoicing over the good news about
Bruce. The minister had been so many years in the pulpit that he used
his preaching voice on all occasions, and there was no chance of
missing a word that he said.

"This is great news about Bruce, Mr. McKenzie," he was saying in a full
round voice, "great news! I'd rather see him going for t