"You are changed and I said that you were changed. He had not noticed—he would not be like to notice! Then he told me about the laird and you."
"Yes. About the laird and me."
"You couldn't love him? They say he is a fine man."
"No, I couldn't love him. I like him. He understands. No one is to blame."
"But if it is not that, what is it—what is it, Elspeth?"
"It's naught—naught—naught, I tell you!"
"It's a strange naught that makes you like a dark lady in a ballad-book!"
Elspeth laughed again. "Didn't I say that you were fanciful? It's late and I am sleepy."
That had been while the leaves were still upon the trees. The next morning and thenceforward Elspeth seemed to make a point of cheerfulness. It passed with her aunt and the helpers in the house. Jarvis Barrow appeared to take no especial note if women laughed or sighed, so long as they lived irreproachably.
The leaves bronzed, the autumn rains came, the leaves fell, the trees stood bare, the winds began to blow, there fell the first snowflakes. Gilian, walking home from the town, was overtaken on the moor by Robin Greenlaw.