'I hope Mr. Holcroft is enjoying his sport among the hills?' said she, after another pause.
'Never mind Holcroft,' replied Allan, a little piqued by her manner; 'have you no welcome for me, Olive?'
'Of course you are glad to be home again,' said she, evasively.
'I have always loved dear old Dundargue, even when I came home as a boy from school, and now I shall love it more than ever.'
'Why?'
'Can you ask me—when you are its permanent inmate?'
'I may not be so always,' said she, pointedly. 'Nothing lasts for ever; but as we are cousins—' she was about to add something, yet paused.
'And more than mere cousins can ever be to each other. You might at least give me your hand, Olive,' said he, drawing nearer to her as she looked up at him, earnestly, shyly, and then, he began to think, rather defiantly, with those wonderful violet-grey eyes of hers. She gave him her right hand, and, though cased in a tight glove, a soft and warm little hand it felt; but he drew her towards him, and, ere she could avert the act, was softly and swiftly kissed by him.
'Don't,' she exclaimed, as she snatched her fingers from his clasp. 'How dare you?' she added, repelling him with both hands outspread, and a laughing indignation that was not all laughter; but he looked at the sweet red lips as though he longed to offend again.
'Olive, how can you treat me thus, after all these years?' he asked, with an emotion of annoyance. 'Have you forgotten what jolly playmates we used to be; how we went nutting and seeking birds' nests together, made rag dolls, and chorused "Alexander, King of Macedon," and so forth, with our old nurse, Nannie Mackinnon, the wife of Dugald Glas?'