Drumloch. There were points we could not agree upon. He was angry, I was
obstinate--Mary, I know not how to tell you; how to ask you--"

"Allan, my dear brother Allan, spare yourself and me any more words." She
looked up with clear, candid eyes, and laid her hand upon his. "Uncle is
not unjust in his expectations. His outlay, his cares, his labor, have
saved Drumloch to the family. It is as much his purchase as if he had
bought every acre at public roup. And he has been a second father to me;
kind, generous, thoughtful. It is hard enough for him that his plans must
fail; it would be cruel indeed if he were parted from a son he loves so
tenderly as he loves you, Allan. Let me bear the blame. Let it be my fault
his hopes cannot be realized."

"Can they not be realized, Mary?"

"Do you mean by that question to offer me your hand, Allan? At any rate I
will consider it a fulfillment of your father's desire. No, they cannot be
realized. You are to me as a brother. I distinctly refuse to accept you as
a husband. Uncle John is a gentleman; he will consider my 'no' as final;
and he is too just to blame you, because I decline to be your wife. Nor
shall we be any worse friends, Allan, for this honest talk, I am sure of
that." She smiled bravely in his face, and he did not suspect how deeply
both her affections and her pride had been wounded.

"Let us go back to the house; the air is heavy and hot, we may have a
storm."

Allan was thoroughly miserable and unsettled. As soon as Mary had so
positively refused him, he began to have doubts and longings. "Drumloch
was a fine estate--the name was old and honorable, and in a fair way for