's never the fault
of the world, remember!--it's only the trying little ways of the people
in it!"

She held out her hand in farewell, and he pressed it gently. Then he
threw on his cap, and she opened her cottage door for him to pass out. A
soft shower of rain blew full in their faces as they stood on the
threshold.

"You'll get wet, I'm afraid!" said Mary.

"Oh, that's nothing!" And he buttoned his coat across his chest--"What's
that lovely scent in the garden here, just close to the door?"

"It's the old sweetbriar bush,"--she replied--"It lasts in leaf till
nearly Christmas and always smells so delicious. Shall I give you a bit
of it?"

"It's too dark to find it now, surely!" said Angus.

"Oh, no! I can feel it!"

And stretching out her white hand into the raining darkness, she brought
it back holding a delicate spray of odorous leaves.

"Isn't it sweet?" she said, as she gave it to him.

"It is indeed!" he placed the little sprig in his buttonhole.
"Thank-you! Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

He lifted his hat and smiled into her eyes--then walked quickly through
the tiny garden, opened the gate, shut it carefully behind him, and
disappeared. Mary listened for a moment to the swish of the falling rain
among the leaves, and the noise of the tumbling hill-torrent over its
stony bed. Then she closed and barred the door.

"It's going to be a wet night, David!" she said, as she came back
towards the fire--"And a bit rough, too, by the sound of the sea."

He did not answer immediately, but watched her attentively as she made
up the fire, and cleared the table of the tea things, packing up the
cups and plates and saucers in the neat and noiseless manner which was
particularly her own, preparatory to carrying them all on a tray out to
the little scullery adjoining the kitchen, which with its well polished
saucepans, kettles, and crockery was quite a smart feature of her small
establishment. Then--

"What do you think of him, Mary?" he asked suddenly.

"Of Mr. Reay?"

"Yes."

She hesitated a moment, looking intently at a small crack in one of the
plates she was putting by.

"Well, I don't know, David!--it's rather difficult to say on such a
short acquaintance--but he seems to me quite a good fellow."

"Quite a good fellow, yes!" repeated Helmsley, nodding gravely--"That's
how he seems to me, too."

"I think,"--went on Mary, slowly--"that he's a thoroughly manly
man,--don't you?" He nodded gravely aga