, and Nan's hands went
flying to her hair in soft inquiries; back to her face came its colour.

It was Young Islay. He came into the room with two strides from the
stair-head and a very genteel obeisance to the lady, a conceit of
fashion altogether foreign to glens, but that sent her back in one dart
of fancy to the parlour of Edinburgh, back to the warm town, back to
places of gaiety, and youth, and enterprise, back to soft manners, the
lip gossiping at the ear, shoes gliding upon waxen floors, music, dance,
and mirth. Her heart throbbed as to a revelation, and she could have
taken him in her arms for the sake of that brave life he indicated.

His eyes met hers whenever he entered, and he could not draw them away
till hers, wavering before him, showed him he was daring. He turned and
shook hands with the General, and muttered some commonplace, then back
again he came to that pleasant face so like and yet so unlike the face
he had known when a boy.

"You'll hardly know each other," said the father, amused at this common
interest. "Isn't she a most elderly person to be the daughter of so
young and capable a man?"

Young Islay ranged his mind for a proper compliment, but for once he was
dumb; in all the oft-repeated phrases of his gallant experiences there
was no sentiment to do justice to a moment like this. "I am delighted to
meet you again," he said slowly, his mind confused with a sense of the
inadequacy of the thing and the inexplicable feelings that crowded into
him in the presence of a girl who, three years ago, would have no more
disturbed him than would his sister. She was the first to recover from
the awkwardness of the moment.

"I was just wishing I had on another gown," she said more frankly than
she felt, but bound to give utterance to the last clear thought in her
mind. "I had an idea we might have callers."

"You could have none that became you better," said the lad boldly,
feasting upon her charms of lip and eye. And now he was the
soldier--free, bold, assured.

"What? In the way of visitors," laughed her father, and she flushed
again.

"I spoke of the gown," said Young Islay (and he had not yet seen it,
it might have been red or blue for all he could tell). "I spoke of the
gown; if it depends on that for you to charm your company, you should
wear no other."

"A touch of the garrison, but honest enough to be said before the
father!" thought General Turner.

Nan laughed. She courtesied with an