long and emotionally to his lips. But he said nothing else, and when he
dropped them I went out of the room.



CHAPTER IX

It was wonderful when Mr. MacNairn and his mother came. It was even
more beautiful than I had thought it would be. They arrived late in
the afternoon, and when I took them out upon the terrace the sun was
reddening the moor, and even the rough, gray towers of the castle
were stained rose-color. There was that lovely evening sound of birds
twittering before they went to sleep in the ivy. The glimpses of gardens
below seemed like glimpses of rich tapestries set with jewels. And there
was such stillness! When we drew our three chairs in a little group
together and looked out on it all, I felt as if we were almost in
heaven.

"Yes! yes!" Hector said, looking slowly--round; "it is all here."

"Yes," his mother added, in her lovely, lovely voice. "It is what made
you Ysobel."

It was so angelic of them to feel it all in that deep, quiet way, and to
think that it was part of me and I a part of it. The climbing moon was
trembling with beauty. Tender evening airs quivered in the heather and
fern, and the late birds called like spirits.

Ever since the night when Mrs. MacNairn had held me in her arms under
the apple-tree while the nightingale sang I had felt toward her son as