t. "You've grown
very beautiful. Could you care for me, Mysie?" he asked, looking at her
in the soft moonlight, a smile on his lips, his voice keeping its
seductive wooing tone, and his eyes kindling.

Mysie's experience of life had been gleaned from the love stories of
earls and lords marrying governesses and ladies' maids after a swift and
very eventful courtship. Already she saw herself Peter's wife, her
carriage coming at her order, everyone serving her and she the queen of
all the district. Illiterate but romantic, she was swept off her feet at
the first touch of passion, and the flattery of being recognized!

She did not answer. She did not know what to say; and Peter stole his
arm about her waist, so tempting, so sweet to touch, and they passed
beneath the shadow of the trees as they entered the little wooded copse.
The moonlight filtered down through the trees, working silvery patterns
upon the pathway. The silence, heavy and scented, was broken only by the
far-away wheepling of a wakeful whaup and the grumbling of the burn near
by, which bickered and hurried to be out in the open again on its way to
the river.

Mysie heard the sounds, felt the fragrance of young briars and hawthorn
mingled with the smell of last year's decaying leaves which carpeted the
pathway. She noted the beauty of the foliage against the moon, heard the
swift scurry of a frightened rabbit and the faint snort of a hedge-hog
on the prowl for food.

"What have you to say to me, Mysie?" Peter persisted, his hot breath
against her cheek, his blood coursing through his veins in red-hot
passion. "Could you care for me, Mysie? I want you to be mine!"

"I dinna ken what to say," she at last answered, distress in her voice,
yet pleased to be wooed by this young man. "Wad it no' be wrang to ha'e
onything to dae wi' me? I'm only your mither's servant." She felt it was
her duty to put it this way.

"No, you are my sweetheart," he cried, discretion all gone now in his
eager furtherance of his pleading. "I want you--only you, Mysie," and he
caught her in his arms in a strong burst of desire for her. "Mine,
Mysie, mine!" he cried, his lips upon hers and hers responding now, his
hot eyes greedily devouring her as he held her there in his strong young
arms. "Say, Mysie, that you are mine, that I am yours, body and soul
belonging to each other," and so he raved on in eager burning language,
which was the sweetest music in Mysie's ears.

His arms abou