Young Islay paused, wondering at her caprice;
then he caught the spirit of it and followed with a halloo. A pleasant
quarry--the temptation of it made his blood tingle as no sport in the
world could do; his halloo came back in echoes from the hill, jocund and
hearty echoes, and Sir Deer at a bound went far to the rear among the
bracken.

Nan sped panting yet laughing. Then she heard his cry. "I am coming, I
am coming," he called. It might have been the pibroch of the dawn, the
hopeful conquering dawn on valley rims. She put more vigour into her
flight; her lips set hard; she thought if he caught her before she
reached the spot where Gilian last had kissed her, she must be his for
good.

"Run as you like, I am coming," cried her pursuer, and he was easily
overtaking her. Then he saw how hard and earnestly she strove. With a
grimace to himself, he slackened his pace and let her gain ground. "I
must be doing my best for Gilian," she thought; but as she risked a
glance over her shoulder and saw the pursuit decline, saw his face
handsome and laughing and eager, full of the fun of the adventure,
across a widening space, saw him kiss his hand to her as he ran
leisurely, she forgot that she had meant to run for fair play and
Gilian, and she, too, slackened her pace.

A moment more and he caught her, and she relapsed in his arms with a
sigh of exertion and surrender.

"Faith, you are worth running for!" said he, turning her to him to
see into her eyes. For a little he looked at the flushed and beautiful
countenance. Her bosom throbbed against his breast; her head thrown
back, showed the melting passion of her eyes like slumbering lakes only
half hid by her trembling lids, her lips red and full, tempting, open
upon pearls. She was his, he told himself, all his, and yet--and yet,
he had half a regret that now he had caught he need chase no more--the
regret of the hunter when the deer is home, of the traveller who has
reached the goal after pleasant journeyings.

His pause was but for a moment, then on her lips he pressed his; on all
her glowing face fell the fever of his kisses.

"Nan, Nan!" he whispered, "you are mine, did I not tell you?"

"I suppose I am," she whispered faintly. Then to herself, "Poor Gilian!"

"And yet," said he, "I'm not worth it."

"I daresay not," she confessed, nestling the more closely in his arras.
"But you won me when you saved my life."

"Did I?" said he. "How very wise of me! Give me a kis