She seated herself in a large oak chair that almost concealed her slender figure; her buckle shoes were held out to the blaze; her fine, thin face was outlined against the ruby head cushion; she sighed, finding herself tired.
One of the boar-hounds had found its way in and lay by her side; her long white hand hung idly down and caressed his silky ears; all her movements were very graceful; her body as supple as her face was unmoved and hard.
The heavy clock in the corner had struck ten, but she gave no sign of impatience; her lids drooped over her brilliant eyes, though her firm, thin mouth was unrelaxed.
It struck the half-hour. She looked round; the table was set, nothing was wanting for her husband’s welcome; she lapsed into musing again.
Presently she started into alertness; there was a sound without; the door opened suddenly.
“Jock!” she cried and sprang up.
A slight gentleman in a shining cuirass stood in the doorway.
In a second the dog was at his side and the woman half way down the room with out-held hands to meet him.
“Jock!” she said again; the change in her was wonderful; she flushed into an animated color, all hardness left her face; with sparkling eyes and parted lips she came to him.
“Weel,” he smiled, “I didna’ think ye would be lost on your own Hielands.” He stooped and kissed her; then with a sudden half-laugh to hide the unsteadiness in his voice: