enfernie, I feel no
more!"

"It may grow, Elspeth--"

Elspeth moved to the stem of the oak beneath which they had been
seated. She raised her arm and rested it against the bark, then laid
her forehead upon the warm molded flesh in the blue print sleeve. For
some moments she stayed so, with hidden face, unmoving against the
bole of the tree, like a relief done of old by some wonderful artist.
The laird of Glenfernie, watching her, felt, such was his passion, the
whole of earth and sky, the whole of time, draw to just this point,
hang on just her movement and her word.

"Elspeth!" he cried at last. "Elspeth!"

Elspeth turned, but she stood yet against the tree. Now both arms were
lifted; she had for a moment the appearance of one who hung upon the
tree. Her eyes were wet, tears were upon her cheek. She shook them
off, then left the oak and came a step or two toward him. "There is
something in my brain and heart that tells me what love is. When I
love I shall love hard.... I have had fancies.... But, like yours,
Glenfernie, their times are outgrown and gone by.... It's clear to
try. I like you so much! but I do not love now--and I'll not wed and
come to Glenfernie House until I do."

"'It's clear to try,' you said."

Elspeth looked at him long. "If it is there, even little and far away,
I'll try to bend my steps the way shall bring it nearer. But, oh,
Glenfernie, it may be that there is naught upon the road!"

"Will you journey to look for it? That's all I ask now. Will you
journey to look for it?"

"Yes, I may promise that. And I do not know," said Elspeth,
wonderingly, "what keeps me from thinking I'll meet it." She sat down
among the oak roots. "Let us rest a bit, and say no word, and then go
home."

The sunlight filled the hollow, the wimpling burn took the blue of the
sky, the breeze whispered among the oak leaves. The two sat and gazed
at the day, at the grass, at the little thorn-trees and hazels that
ringed the place around. They sat very still, seeking composure. She
gained it first.

"When will your sister be coming home?"

"It is not settled. Glenfernie House was sad of late years. She ought
to have the life and brightness that she's getting now."

"And will you travel no more?"

He saw as in a lightning glare that she pictured no change for him
beyond such as being laird would make. He was glad when the flash went
and he could forget what it had of destructive and desolating. He
would drag ho