Miss Stuart was sitting before an easel in the large oriel, and as her aunt briefly announced me and withdrew in her eagerness to talk to the wonderful Joe, she rose and greeted me warmly. 'Oh, Mr Russell,' she said, 'I am glad to see you. Somehow I can't paint to-day; the inspiration is wanting;' and she put her brushes in the jar and laid aside her palette.

It was a large room lit by two windows, one facing the south, the other to the west over-looking the wooded banks of the winding Nith. The flush of the sunset was tingeing the sky and flooding the room with a subdued light which mellowed and softened the deep black of the Indian furniture against the pale-gray walls and the deeper-gray carpet. A large fire, crowned with a halo of short blue flame, glowed in the grate, and a 'megilpy' odour, mingling with the faint, indescribable perfume which ladies carry with them, lingered around, and reminded me of a reception afternoon in a Queen Street studio of long ago.

I was conscious of these details in my surroundings, although my eyes had never wandered for a moment from the sweet face of my dream-lady, and followed her greedily as she walked forward to the firelight.

I explained to her that my partner, Mr Monteith, was engaged with Mrs Stuart on business, and that I had taken the opportunity of having a word with her on a similar subject.

She smiled, wearily I thought, and seated herself. 'I don't like business talks, Mr Russell,' she said. 'Neither did father. It must be a family trait. Still, I dare say they are incumbent on us sometimes. I trust it is pleasant business you wish to talk over.'

'Oh yes, it is pleasant enough,' I said, and her face brightened. 'Sitting here,' I continued, after a pause, 'and seeing you in such a perfect setting, I am strongly tempted to talk to you on a subject nearer my heart; but—well, I have already promised you to put my feelings into the background for the time being, and, hard though it may be, I will be true to my word. You remember I talked to you about your interest in the Banku Oil Company? Well, the last dividend was paid to us, one hundred pounds of which has been lodged in the local bank, and I have here a cheque-book which you can use from time to time as you may require.'

'You are very thoughtful for me, Mr Russell,' she said softly, 'and I thank you very, very much. One hundred pounds is surely a lot of money. I could do with less, you know, if'——

'Not at all, Miss Stuart. The money is yours; use it as you like, and just let me know when you need more. You—you don't mind asking me?'

'No,' she said promptly, and as she trustfully looked me in the eyes her mouth retained the form of that little word long after it had passed her lips. She was sitting in profile against the firelit background, leaning slightly forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee and her chin resting lightly on the tips of her fingers. Her pose was so easy and graceful, and her dear face, in its beauty of feature and earnestness of expression, so bewitching, that I could not conceal my longing and admiration. I would have given the world to be allowed to kneel down beside her, and there, in the mystic glamour of the firelight, worship silently and reverently at her shrine. My steady gaze disconcerted her, and I cursed my temerity when I saw a blush spreading over her half-averted face.

'Socrates has many disciples still, Mr Russell,' she said, without any sign of displeasure in her tone; and her eyes again sought mine.

'Yes. How so, Miss Stuart?'

'He sought the truth in doing good; so do you. Since father's death, and until—well, very lately, I haven't known what it is to have a joyous mind. I seem to have been walking among shadows, and a dread has always been knocking at my heart. You, by your kindly attention and your sympathy, have lightened my burden and brought a ray of hope to me; and, do you know, Mrs Jardine's little children every evening of their sweet young lives ask God to bless you for being kind to their dear daddy.'

Our line of business conversation had got a twist somehow, and I didn't very well know what to say in reply, or how best, without breaking away at a tangent, I could get back to the subject I had in my mind. 'I am sorry to hear you have had your troubles, Miss Stuart,' I said after reflection; 'but I am glad to know that even to a small degree I have made your burdens lighter. I have promised to be your friend; you'll not find me wanting, I assure you. Doubtless your affairs have worried you, but daylight is showing through now, and in a few weeks I trust everything will be settled to your satisfaction. Do you know, we have with us to-day some one who knew your father, and who was present at his marriage ceremony.'

'Some one who knew my father, and who was present at his marriage ceremony!' she repeated slowly, as if she couldn't at once realise what it meant.

'Yes!' and, as I noted the colour gradually leaving her cheek, it came to me in a flash that I had erred in mentioning the fact in conjunction with a satisfactory settlement of her affairs. Even to an obtuse mind the inference was obvious, and I felt I had blundered grievously. Her agitation was unmistakable, and to relieve the situation I was about to make a remark, when she interrupted me.

'One moment, please;' and she turned her face away from me. 'This man, you say, was present when my father and mother were married, and you mention it as if it had a special significance. Does this affect me—I mean, would it make any difference to my name or prospects—my name particularly?'

'Oh yes, it would, Miss Stuart,' I said feelingly.

'Can you rely on what this man says?'

'Most emphatically, and we shall at once take steps to prove it.'

'When did you hear about this?'

'Quite lately.'

'Was it before you spoke to me, and—and promised to be my friend?'

'I didn't know about it then. It was only the day before yesterday it came to my knowledge.'

There was silence between us for a time, and the ormolu clock on the marble mantelpiece ticked loudly.

Then she rose to her feet and looked toward me, smiling through tear-dimmed eyes. 'You have made me very happy, Mr Russell. I don't want to know anything further. I leave myself confidently in your hands. You'll find cigarettes on the table behind you; you may smoke here;' and she crossed the room and sat down at the piano. She struck a few chords, deep as her own feelings; then she rose and came toward me. 'Mr Russell, do you know I have never known the joy of a mother's caress or the blessing of a mother's good-night kiss. Such memories of childhood are not mine, and my past is empty—empty. My father, for reasons of which I know nothing, never mentioned my mother's name to me. I was brought up among strangers, kindly enough, but still strangers. I never came in contact with other children. In a way, I was isolated from everything heartfelt and human; it is only since I got to know your neighbours that I have had a glimpse of what is surely the truest, sweetest, and happiest side of life. I like your nurse, your Betty. She once put her hand on my arm, and it had such a motherly touch that I wanted to kiss her. Perhaps you are thinking that this has no connection with anything that has passed between us. Well, you may be right in thinking so; but it is on my mind and in my heart, and I just wanted to tell you now, as I feel my future is hanging by a thread—a very slender thread—and I may not have another opportunity of saying it.'

I understood her mood, and made no reply; but I took her hand, raised it to my lips, and kissed it.

We were standing together in the oriel, watching the sunset splendour through the leafless trees, when Mrs Stuart and Murray Monteith joined us. Once or twice I caught my partner admiringly following Miss Stuart's movements, and he looked several times at me with a mark of interrogation in his eye. I had a feeling that he 'jaloused,' as Betty would put it, and it set me a-thinking; only for a moment, however, and I soon dismissed him and his monocle from my mind.

We had afternoon tea and a pleasant chat on current topics, and then our carriage was called. Just before we started, when we were standing in the hall, Miss Stuart asked me, in an undertone, if she could see, just for a minute, the man who had known her father. I called Joe inside, and Miss Stuart took him into the drawing-room. When he joined us again there was a glad look in his eye, and I knew his heart was proud within him, for he had shaken hands with his old Major's daughter.

I sat quiet and preoccupied in the corner of the brougham when driving home.

Just as the first twinkling light shone out ahead from the Gillfoot turn, Monteith turned to me. 'Russell,' he said, 'pardon my interrupting the flow of your pleasant meditations. You're a queer fellow in many ways; you—you don't say much till it suits you; but I can see as far through a brick wall as any one, and it may be—I say it may be—agreeable to you to know that Blackford Hall in Morningside will shortly be in the market. I've heard you say that if you ever settled down to married life you would like to live there.'

'Thank you, Monteith, for your information,' I said. 'It is agreeable to me to know this.'

Nothing further was said on the subject till we were seated at my cosy fireside. Then Murray Monteith, blowing clouds of fragrant smoke above him, and glancing round my clean, well-furnished walls, said, 'By Jove, Russell! you're a lucky fellow; an old doting nurse there,' inclining his head toward the kitchen, 'who loves you almost with a mother's affection, and who wouldn't allow the wind to blow on you if she could prevent it, and the love of a girl like—like'——and he hesitated and looked at me.

'Go on, Monteith; you're doing all right.'

'Go on! Hang it, man, you go on! Can't you speak, you—you dungeon, and give me a tag on which to hang my congratulations?'

'You don't require a tag, Monteith. A gag would be more suitable in the circumstances.'

'Now, look here, Russell,' he said, as he flung his cigar-stump into the fire and fixed me through his monocle, 'you're not honest with me when you say that, and you know you are not. You and I are not strangers to each other, and there's no occasion for secrecy. If you have no matrimonial news, I have. I thought, perhaps, if you had taken me into your confidence, it would have been a good opportunity for me to acquaint you, in a gradual, chatty way, with my plans. As you haven't—well, all I shall say now is that I am engaged.'

'My dear Monteith, I'm delighted to hear you say so, and I heartily congratulate you. You're the very best fellow I know, and you're marrying a lady in every way worthy of you. Miss Playfair is a'——

'Miss Playfair!' he exclaimed, in astonishment. 'How do you know?'

'Oh, well, the last time I visited you, before leaving Edinburgh, I, like you, was confronted with a brick wall, and I saw a little way through it. But that's neither here nor there. What we have to do now is to signalise the event;' and for the second time within two days I tasted a liquid element at an unusual hour.

'And when does the great event come off, Monteith?' I asked.

'Well, Russell,' he said, 'that is a matter which in a way depends on you. You see, I shall need to wait till you are quite recovered and back to business again. A honeymoon would naturally follow the ceremony,' he laughingly said, 'and it wouldn't do for both the principals of Monteith & Russell to be away at the same time.'

Dr Grierson and Mr Crichton joined us later at supper. Monteith is a keen devotee of the chess-board; and while he was trying conclusions with the banker, Dr Grierson and I went upstairs into my own little room. I told him all that had taken place—of my meetings with Miss Stuart, and the turn in the tide of her affairs—and he congratulated me and gave me much encouragement. Then I asked him when he thought I should be sufficiently well to resume business.

'Well, William,' he said, 'you have to see Dr Balfour and get his permission before you can go back to town. Personally, I cannot give you even an approximate date. You are making splendid progress, and unless there are very urgent reasons for your return, I should advise you to keep free from worry on that score. Leave yourself in my hands, and before long, with Dr Balfour's concurrence, I shall be able to say when you may with safety receive marching orders.'

Murray Monteith had to leave me without being able to arrange a particular date for his marriage. I am very sorry; but, after all, his great day may dawn sooner than he expects.