THE doubt was practically decided before Anne had determined whatto do. She was still at the window when the sitting-room door wasthrown open, and Sir Patrick appeared, obsequiously shown in byMr. Bishopriggs.

"Ye're kindly welcome, Sir Paitrick. Hech, Sirs! the sight of youis gude for sair eyne."

Sir Patrick turned and looked at Mr. Bishopriggs--as he mighthave looked at some troublesome insect which he had driven out ofthe window, and which had returned on him again.

"What, you scoundrel! have you drifted into an honest employmentat last?"

Mr. Bishopriggs rubbed his hands cheerfully, and took his tonefrom his superior, with supple readiness

"Ye're always in the right of it, Sir Paitrick! Wut, raal wut inthat aboot the honest employment, and me drifting into it. Lord'ssake, Sir, hoo well ye wear!"

Dismissing Mr. Bishopriggs by a sign, Sir Patrick advanced toAnne.

"I am committing an intrusion, madam which must, I am afraid,appear unpardonable in your eyes," he said. "May I hope you willexcuse me when I have made you acquainted with my motive?"

He spoke with scrupulous politeness. His knowledge of Anne was ofthe slightest possible kind. Like other men, he had felt theattraction of her unaffected grace and gentleness on the fewoccasions when he had been in her company--and that was all. Ifhe had belonged to the present generation he would, under thecircumstances, have fallen into one of the besetting sins ofEngland in these days--the tendency (to borrow an illustrationfrom the stage) to "strike an attitude" in the presence of asocial emergency. A man of the present period, in Sir Patrick'sposition, would have struck an attitude of (what is called)chivalrous respect; and would have addressed Anne in a tone ofready-made sympathy, which it was simply impossible for astranger really to feel. Sir Patrick affected nothing of thesort. One of the besetting sins of _his_ time was the habitualconcealment of our better selves--upon the whole, a far lessdangerous national error than the habitual advertisement of ourbetter selves, which has become the practice, public andprivately, of society in this age. Sir Patrick assumed, ifanything, less sympathy on this occasion than he really felt.Courteous to all women, he was as courteous as usual to Anne--andno more.

"I am quite at a loss, Sir, to know what brings you to thisplace. The servant here informs me that you are one of a party ofgentlemen who have just passed by the inn, and who have all goneon except yourself." In those guarded terms Anne opened theinterview with the unwelcome visitor, on her side.

Sir Patrick admitted the fact, without betraying the slightestembarrassment.

"The servant is quite right," he said. "I am one of the party.And I have purposely allowed them to go on to the keeper'scottage without me. Having admitted this, may I count onreceiving your permission to explain the motive of my visit?"

Necessarily suspicious of him, as coming from Windygates, Anneanswered in few and formal words, as coldly as before.

"Explain it, Sir Patrick, if you please, as briefly as possible."

Sir Patrick bowed. He was not in the least offended; he was even(if the confession may be made without degrading him in thepublic estimation) privately amused. Conscious of having honestlypresented himself at the inn in Anne's interests, as well as inthe interests of the ladies at Windygates, it appealed to hissense of humor to find himself kept at arm's-length by the verywoman whom he had come to benefit. The temptation was strong onhim to treat his errand from his own whimsical point of view. Hegravely took out his watch, and noted the time to a second,before he spoke again.

"I have an event to relate in which you are interested," he said."And I have two messages to deliver, which I hope you will notobject to receive. The event I undertake to describe in oneminute. The messages I promise to dispose of in two minutes more.Total duration of this intrusion on your time--three minutes."

He placed a chair for Anne, and waited until she had permittedhim, by a sign, to take a second chair for himself.

"We will begin with the event," he resumed. "Your arrival at thisplace is no secret at Windygates. You were seen on the foot-roadto Craig Fernie by one of the female servants. And the inferencenaturally drawn is, that you were on your way to the inn. It maybe important for you to know this; and I have taken the libertyof mentioning it accordingly." He consulted his watch. "Eventrelated. Time, one minute."

He had excited her curiosity, to begin with. "Which of the womensaw me?" she asked, impulsively.

Sir Patrick (watch in hand) declined to prolong the interview byanswering any incidental inquiries which might arise in thecourse of it.

"Pardon me," he rejoined; "I am pledged to occupy three minutesonly. I have no room for the woman. With your kind permission, Iwill get on to the messages next."

Anne remained silent. Sir Patrick went on.

"First message: 'Lady Lundie's compliments to her step-daughter'slate governess--with whose married name she is not acquainted.Lady Lundie regrets to say that Sir Patrick, as head of thefamily, has threatened to return to Edinburgh, unless sheconsents to be guided by his advice in the course she pursueswith the late governess. Lady Lundie, accordingly, foregoes herintention of calling at the Craig Fernie inn, to express hersentiments and make her inquiries in person, and commits to SirPatrick the duty of expressing her sentiments; reserving toherself the right of making her inquiries at the next convenientopportunity. Through the medium of her brother-in-law, she begsto inform the late governess that all intercourse is at an endbetween them, and that she declines to act as reference in caseof future emergency.'--Message textually correct. Expressive ofLady Lundie's view of your sudden departure from the house. Time,two minutes."

Anne's color rose. Anne's pride was up in arms on the spot.

"The impertinence of Lady Lundie's message is no more than Ishould have expected from her," she said. "I am only surprised atSir Patrick's delivering it."

"Sir Patrick's motives will appear presently," rejoined theincorrigible old gentleman. "Second message: 'Blanche's fondestlove. Is dying to be acquainted with Anne's husband, and to beinformed of Anne's married name. Feels indescribable anxiety andapprehension on Anne's account. Insists on hearing from Anneimmediately. Longs, as she never longed for any thing yet, toorder her pony-chaise and drive full gallop to the inn. Yields,under irresistible pressure, to t he exertion of her guardian'sauthority, and commits the expression of her feelings to SirPatrick, who is a born tyrant, and doesn't in the least mindbreaking other people's hearts.' Sir Patrick, speaking forhimself, places his sister-in-law's view and his niece's view,side by side, before the lady whom he has now the honor ofaddressing, and on whose confidence he is especially careful notto intrude. Reminds the lady that his influence at Windygates,however strenuously he may exert it, is not likely to lastforever. Requests her to consider whether his sister-in-law'sview and his niece's view in collision, may not lead to veryundesirable domestic results; and leaves her to take the coursewhich seems best to herself under those circumstances.--Secondmessage delivered textually. Time, three minutes. A storm comingon. A quarter of an hour's ride from here to theshooting-cottage. Madam, I wish you good-evening."

He bowed lower than ever--and, without a word more, quietly leftthe room.

Anne's first impulse was (excusably enough, poor soul) an impulseof resentment.

"Thank you, Sir Patrick!" she said, with a bitter look at theclosing door. "The sympathy of society with a friendless womancould hardly have been expressed in a more amusing way!"

The little irritation of the moment passed off with the moment.Anne's own intelligence and good sense showed her the position inits truer light.

She recognized in Sir Patrick's abrupt departure Sir Patrick'sconsiderate resolution to spare her from entering into anydetails on the subject of her position at the inn. He had givenher a friendly warning; and he had delicately left her to decidefor herself as to the assistance which she might render him inmaintaining tranquillity at Windygates. She went at once to aside-table in the room, on which writing materials were placed,and sat down to write to Blanche.

"I can do nothing with Lady Lundie," she thought. "But I havemore influence than any body else over Blanche and I can preventthe collision between them which Sir Patrick dreads."

She began the letter. "My dearest Blanche, I have seen SirPatrick, and he has given me your message. I will set your mindat ease about me as soon as I can. But, before I say any thingelse, let me entreat you, as the greatest favor you can do toyour sister and your friend, not to enter into any disputes aboutme with Lady Lundie, and not to commit the imprudence--theuseless imprudence, my love--of coming here." She stopped--thepaper swam before her eyes. "My own darling!" she thought, "whocould have foreseen that I should ever shrink from the thought ofseeing _you?"_ She sighed, and dipped the pen in the ink, andwent on with the letter.

The sky darkened rapidly as the evening fell. The wind swept infainter and fainter gusts across the dreary moor. Far and wideover the face of Nature the stillness was fast falling whichtells of a coming storm.