to see Alexander Jardine!" When he went up to her she took his two
hands in hers. "I remember your mother and how fine a lassie she was!
Good mind and good heart--"

"We've heard of you, too," answered Alexander. He looked at her in
frank admiration, _Eh, but you're bonny!_ written in his gaze.

Mrs. Alison, as they called her, was something more than bonny. She
had loveliness. More than that, she breathed a cleanliness of spirit,
a lucid peace, a fibered self-mastery passing into light. Alexander
did not analyze his feeling for her, but it was presently one of great
liking. Now she sat in her great chair while the maids went on with
the unpacking, and questioned him about Glenfernie and all the family
and life there. She was slight, not tall, with hair prematurely
white, needing no powder. She sat and talked with her hand upon Ian.
While she talked she glanced from the one youth to the other. At last
she said:

"Alexander Jardine, I love Ian dearly. He needs and will need
love--great love. If you are going to be friends, remember that love
is bottomless.--And now go, the two of you, for the day is getting
on."

They passed again the macaw-and-pagoda screen and left the paneled
room. The August light struck slant and gold. The two quitted the
house and crossed the terrace into the avenue without again
encountering the master of the place.

"I will go with you to the top of the hill," said Ian. They climbed
the ridge that was like a purple cloud. "I'll come to Glenfernie