instinctive acquiescence in what he wished done--it had happened once or
twice before, startling her a little at herself; for, as I have said,
Miss Williams was not at all the kind of person to do every thing that
every body asked her, without considering whether it was right or wrong.
She could obey, but it would depend entirely upon whom she had to obey,
which, indeed, makes the sole difference between loving disciples and
slavish fools.

It was a lovely day, one of those serene autumn days peculiar to
Scotland--I was going to say Saint Andrews; and any one who knows the
ancient city will know exactly how it looks in the still, strongly
spiritualized light of such an afternoon, with the ruins, the castle,
cathedral, and St. Regulus's tower standing out sharply against the
intensely blue sky, and on the other side--on both sides--the yellow
sweep of sand curving away into the distance, and melting into the
sunshiny sea.

Many a time, in their prescribed walks with their young tribe, Miss
Williams and Mr. Roy had taken this stroll across the Links and round by
the sands to the mouth of the Eden, leaving behind them a long and
sinuous track of many footsteps, little and large, but now there were
only two lines--"foot-prints on the sands of Time," as he jestingly
called them, turning round and pointing to the marks of the dainty feet
that walked so steadily and straightly beside his own.

"They seem made to go together, those two tracks," said he.

Why did he say it? Was he the kind of man to talk thus without meaning
it? If so, alas! she was not exactly the woman to be thus talked to.
Nothing fell on her lightly. Perhaps it was her misfortune, perhaps even