ng in making up
their minds. And the heroines in our old songs, too: do you know the
song of Lizzie Lindsay, who 'kilted her coats o' green satin,' and was
off to the Highlands before any one could interfere with her? That is
the way to put an end to doubts. Gerty, be a brave woman! Be worthy of
yourself! Sweetheart, have you the courage now to 'kilt your coats o'
green satin?' And I know that in the Highlands you will have as proud a
welcome as ever Lord Ronald Macdonald gave his bride from the South."

Then the strange smile went away from his face.

"I am tiring you, Gerty," said he.

"Well, you are very much excited, Keith," said she; "and you won't
listen to what I have to say. I think your coming to London was a
mistake. You are giving both of us a great deal of pain; and, as far as
I can see, to no purpose. We could much better have arrived at a proper
notion of each other's feelings by writing; and the matter is so serious
as to require consideration. If it is the business of a heroine to
plunge two people into lifelong misery, without thinking twice about it,
then I am not a heroine. Her 'coats o' green satin!'--I should like to
know what was the end of that story. Now really, dear Keith, you must
bear with me if I say that I have a little more prudence than you, and I
must put a check on your headstrong wishes. Now I know there is no use
in our continuing this conversation: you are too anxious and eager to
mind anything I say. I will write to you."

"Gerty," said he, slowly, "I know you are not a selfish or cruel woman;
and I do not think you would willingly pain any one. But if you came to
me and said, 'Answer my question, for it is a question of life or death
to me,' I should not answer that I would write a letter to you."

"You may call me selfish, if you like," said she, with some show of
temper, "but I tell you once for all that I cannot bear the fatigue of
interviews such as this, and I think it was very inconsiderate of you to
force it on me. And as for answering a question, the position we are in
is not to be explained with a 'Yes' or a 'No'--it is mere romance and
folly to speak of people running away and getting married; for I suppose
that is what you mean. I will write to you if you like, and give you
every explanation in my power. But I don't think we shall arrive at any
better understanding by your accusing me of selfishness or cruelty."

"Gerty!"

"And if it comes to that," she continued,