'I hope so—nay, I am sure they do,' replied Mary, with one of her brightest smiles.
'And you love the scenery here?'
'Yes—every rock and tree and stream; they have all their old stories and young associations to me.'
'And your old home at Birkwoodbrae?' he added, smiling at her enthusiasm.
'Yes—dearly, every stone of it!'
He paused a little, as if lost in thought, and then said,
'But surely you must miss something in your life, Miss Wellwood—you must be lonely amid these birchen woods?'
'Lonely with Ellinor and all my work? Oh! no. I assure you I am not.'
'But you cannot expect to have her—a girl so very handsome—always with you?'
'Perhaps not,' said Mary, and her long dark lashes drooped, as her thoughts hovered between poor Robert Wodrow and his probable rival, the tawny-haired Englishman.