ome back
here and remain until about the middle of October; then we go on to the
Braes--worse luck for me. I like the rough-and-tumble of this place; the
absence of ceremony; the freedom and the solitude. It will be very
different at the Braes."

"Why shouldn't you stop on here, then?" he naturally asked.

[Illustration: "_Robert got the small parcels and the drinking-cups out
of the bag, and arranged them on the warm turf._"]

"All by myself?" she said. "Well, I shouldn't mind the loneliness--you
see, old Robert is left here, and Roderick, too, and one or two of
the girls to keep fires on; but I should have nothing to do but read;
the fishing is useless long before that time. And so you are going away
quite soon?"

"Yes," said he, and he paused for a second--for there was some wild wish
in his heart that she would have just one word of regret. "I must go,"
he continued, seeing that she did not speak. "I am wanted. And I have
had a long holiday--a long and delightful holiday; and I'm sure, when I
look back over it, I can't thank you sufficiently for all your kindness
to me."

"Thank me, Mr. Moore?" she said, with obvious surprise.

"Oh, yes, indeed," he said, warmly. "If it was only a word now and
again, it was always encouragement. I should never have ventured out
after the deer if it had not been for you; probably I should never have
taken up a gun at all. Then all those delightful days by the river;
haven't I to thank you for them? It seems rather hard that I should be
so much indebted to you--"

"I am sure you are not at all," she said.

"--without a chance of ever being able to show my gratitude; repayment,
of course, is out of the question, for we could never meet again in
similar circumstances--in reversed circumstances, rather--I mean, you
have had it all your own way in your--your toleration, shall I say?--or
your commiseration, of a hopeless duffer. Oh, I know what I'm talking
about. Most people in your position would have said, 'Well, let him go
and make a fool of himself!' and most people in my position would have
said, 'No, I'm not going to make a fool of myself.'"

"I don't quite understand," she said, simply, "why you should care so
much for the opinion of other people."

"I suppose there is no chance of my ever seeing you in London, Miss
Honnor," he continued, rather breathlessly. "If--if I might presume on
the acquaintanceship formed up here, I should like--well, I should like
to show y