f peace. He had
to attend Mrs. Andrews to the piano and listen to her singing of a
sentimental ballad with the face of a man in the process of enjoyment.
Soon he pleaded the four miles of distance and the dark night, and took
his leave. His spirits had in a measure returned. Alice had not been
gracious, but she had shown no scorn. And her spell at the first sight
of her was woven a thousand-fold over his heart.

He found her alone for one moment in the hall.

"Alice--Miss Wishart, may I come and see you? It is a pity such near
neighbours should see so little of each other."

His hesitation made him cloak a despairing request in the garb of a
conventional farewell.

The girl had the sense to pierce the disguise. "You may come and see
us, if you like, Mr. Haystoun. We shall be at home all next week."

"I shall come very soon," he cried, and he was whirled away from the
light; with the girl's face framed in the arch of the doorway making a
picture for his memory.

When the others had gone to bed, Stocks and Mr. Wishart sat up over a
last pipe by the smoking-room fire.

The younger man moved uneasily in his chair. He had something to say
which had long lain on his mind, and he was uncertain of its reception.

"You have been for a long time my friend, Mr. Wishart," he began. "You
have done me a thousand kindnesses, and I only hope I have not proved
myself unworthy of them."

Mr. Wishart raised his eyebrows at the peculiar words. "Certainly you
have not," he said. "I regard you as the most promising by far of the
younger men of my acquaintance, and any little services I may have
rendered have been amply repaid me."

The younger man bowed and looked into the fire.

"It is very kind of you to speak so," he said. "I have been wondering
whether I might not ask for a further kindness, the greatest favour
which you could confer upon me. Have you made any plans for your
daughter's future?"

Mr. Wishart sat up stiffly on the instant. "You mean?" he said.

"I mean that I love Alice . . . your daughter . . . and I wish to make
her my wife. If you will give me your consent, I will ask her."

"But--but," said the old man, stammering. "Does the girl know anything
of this?"

"She knows that I love her, and I think she will not be unkind."

"I don't know that I object," said Mr. Wishart after a long pause. "In
fact I am very willing, and I am very glad that you had the good manners
to speak to me first. Yes, upon my wo