rd, sir, I am pleased. You have
had a creditable career, and your future promises well. My girl will
help you, for though I say it, she will not be ill-provided for. I
respect your character and I admire your principles, and I give you my
heartiest good wishes."

Mr. Stocks rose and held out his hand. He felt that the interview
could not be prolonged in the present fervour of gratitude.

"Had it been that young Haystoun now," said Mr. Wishart, "I should
never have given my consent. I resolved long ago that my daughter
should never marry an idle man. I am a plain man, and I care nothing
for social distinctions."

But as Mr. Stocks left the room the plain man glanced after him, and
sitting back suffered a moment's reflection. The form of this worker
contrasted in his mind with the figure of the idler who had that evening
graced his table. A fool, doubtless, but a fool with an air and a
manner! And for one second he allowed himself to regret that he was to
acquire so unromantic a son-in-law.

CHAPTER XV

The NEMESIS OF A COWARD

Two days later the Andrews drove up the glen to Etterick, taking with
them the unwilling Mr. Wishart. Alice had escaped the ordeal with some
feigned excuse, and the unfortunate Mr. Thompson, deeply grieving, had
been summoned by telegram from cricket to law. The lady had chattered
all the way up the winding moorland road, crying out banalities about
the pretty landscape, or questioning her very ignorant companions about
the dwellers in Etterick. She was full of praises for the house when it
came in view; it was "quaint," it was "charming," it was everything
inappropriate. But the amiable woman's prattle deserted her when she
found herself in the cold stone hall with the great portraits and the
lack of all modern frippery. It was so plainly a man's house, so
clearly a place of tradition, that her pert modern speech seemed for one
moment a fatuity.

It was an off-day for the shooters, and so for a miracle there were men
in the drawing-room at tea-time. The hostess for the time was an aunt
of Lewis's, a certain Mrs. Alderson, whose husband (the famous big-game
hunter) had but recently returned from the jaws of a Zambesi lion.
George's sister, Lady Clanroyden, a tall, handsome girl in a white
frock, was arranging flowers in a bowl, and on the sill of the open
window two men were basking in the sun. From the inner drawing-room
there came an echo of voices and laughter. The whole scene was s