it, and I should get cross."

"Then good night, bairnies. I must not keep the minister waiting. Maybe
I'll be beyond your time. Don't lose your beauty sleep for me."

He left the room in a hurry, and in a few minutes the "bairnies" heard the
crunch of the retreating wheels upon the gravel. Mary continued at the
piano, lightly running over with one hand the music she happened to turn.
Allan stood on the hearth watching her. Both were intensely and
uncomfortably conscious of their position. At length Allan said, "Mary,
suppose you cease playing, and talk with me!"

"Very well." She rose slowly and turned with affected reluctance.
Affected, because she really wished for some satisfactory conversation
with him. The recollection of their last confidence was painful and
humiliating. She could hardly bear the idea of carrying its memory
throughout two years. Few as the steps were between herself and Allan, she
determined, as she took them, to speak with all the candor which her
position gave her the right to use; and at any rate, not to end their
interview again in debt to self-esteem. The strength of the Scotch mind is
in its interrogative quality, and instinctively Mary fell behind the cover
of a question.

"Why should we talk, Allan? Is there any thing you can say that will unsay
the words you have spoken?"

"You were not fair with me, Mary. You took me up before I had finished my
explanation."

"Oh, I think there was enough said."