So there for a great space I stood in the dusk of the arbour, mazed and bewildered by the strange, undreamed-of bliss—ennobled by the touch of her lips, ay, more than if the King himself had laid his sword on my shoulder in the way of accolade.
Then at last I moved and went in also, dragging tardy-foot away from the sweet and memorable place.
At the garden gate I met Nell Kennedy, and made to pass without seeing her. But she stood in the middle of the way.
'I know,' she said, pointing scornfully with her finger, 'Maidie has been talking to you behind the hedge. She has given you the French brooch she would not give me yesterday, though she has another.'
Then I walked silently past her, with as great dignity as I could command, for that is ever the best way with forward children.
But she turned and cried after me, 'I know who will get that other.'
A saying which did not trouble me, though I could not quite forget it, for I knew well enough that it was only Nell's spite, because her sister had not given her the golden badge which she coveted.
High in my room in the White Tower I sat and looked out to the sea. There I sat all night, sleepless, till the sun rose over the woods and the chilly tops of the waves glittered. I bethought me on all that had happened, and I remembered with shame many things in which I had done not wisely especially in the matter of the Grieve's lass, and my convoying of her home through the wood. For now, with Marjorie Kennedy's badge against my lips, all things had become new; bitterly was I ashamed of my folly, and right briskly did I repent of it.
CHAPTER VIII
THE LAIRD OF AUCHENDRAYNE