"It shall not end thus!" he cried. "Let the past be past, Coquette, and
the future ours. Let us seek a new country for ourselves. Let me take
you away, and make for you a new world. Why should we two be for ever
miserable? Coquette----"

"I am afraid of you now," she said, drawing back in fear. "What are you?
Ah, I do see another face!" And, staggering, she fell insensible on the
deck as the minister approached.

That night Lord Earlshope left the yacht, and this was his parting
message, written on a slip of paper: "I was mad last night. I do not
know what I said. Forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself."

A winter's illness followed the strain of these emotional scenes, but
with the spring Coquette resumed her morning moorland walks, and drank
in new life from the warm, sweet breezes. One morning, she came face to
face with Lord Earlshope. With only a second's pause she stepped forward
and offered him her hand.

"Have you really forgiven me?" he asked.

"That is all over," she said, "and forgotten. It does no good to bring
it back."

"How very good you are! I have wandered all over Europe, feeling as
though I had the brand of Cain on my forehead."

"That is nonsense," said Coquette. "Your talk of Cain, your going away,
your fears--I do not understand it at all."

"No," said he. "Nor would you ever understand without a series of
explanations I have not the courage to make."

"I do not understand," she replied; "why all this secrecy--all this
mystery?"

"And I cannot tell you now," he said.

"I wish not to have any more whys," she said impatiently. "Explanations,
they never do good between friends. I am satisfied if you come to the
Manse and become as you were once. That is sufficient."

She tried hard to keep the conversation on the level of friendship; but
when at last she turned to leave him, ere she knew, his arms were around
her, and kisses were being showered on her forehead and on her lips.

"Let me go--let me go!" she pleaded piteously. "Oh, what have we done?"

"We have sealed our fate," said he, with a haggard look. "I have fought
against this for many a day; but now, Coquette, won't you look up and
give me one kiss before we part?"

But her downcast face was pale and deathlike, and finally she said: "I
cannot speak to you now. To-morrow, or next day--perhaps we shall meet."

The next day she met him again, and told him she was going to Glasgow
with Lady Drum to see her cousin, the Whaup.