"He cannot do that," said Käthchen, "if he hasn't been blind to what your eyes have said to him again and again."
"What do you mean, Käthchen?" Mary demanded—at once alarmed and resentful.
Käthchen retreated quickly: it had been a careless remark.
"Oh, I don't mean anything. I mean your eyes have said 'Thank you,' again and again; and it is but right they should. He has indeed been very thoughtful and kind—and always so respectful—keeping himself in the background. Oh, you need not be afraid, Mamie: you won't find me suggesting that you shouldn't have the most frank and friendly relations with Mr. Ross. At the same time——"
"Yes, at the same time?"
"I was wondering," said Käthchen, with a little hesitation, "how he might get on with your brother and Mr. Meredyth—or, rather, how they might get on with him——"
"My brother and Mr. Meredyth," said Mary, a little proudly, "will remember that Mr. Ross is my guest: that will be enough."
But Kate Glendinning's uneasy forecast was not without some justification—as Mary was soon to discover. The two visitors from the South arrived on the Monday afternoon, and there were many curious eyes covertly following the waggonette as it drove through the village. Of the two strangers, the taller, who was Mary Stanley's brother, was a young fellow of about four or five-and-twenty, good looking rather, of the fair English type, with an aquiline nose, a pretty little yellow-white moustache, and calm grey eyes. His companion, some eight or ten years older, was of middle height, or perhaps a trifle under, active and wiry-looking, with a sun-tanned face, a firm mouth, and shrewd eyes, that on the whole were also good-natured. Both of the travellers were in high spirits—and no wonder: they had heard good accounts of the grouse; they had just caught a glimpse of the Garra, which had plenty of water after the recent rains; over there was the little steam launch that could amuse them now and again for an idle hour; and beyond the bay the big, odd-looking house, against its background of fir and larch, seemed to offer them a hospitable welcome.
Mary was at the top of the semicircular flight of stairs to greet them; but even as she accompanied them into the great oak hall she instinctively felt that there was something unusual in her brother's manner towards her. And when, presently, Mr. Meredyth had been taken away to be shown his own room, Fred Stanley remained behind: Käthchen had not yet put in an appearance, for some reason or another.
"Well, what's the matter, Fred?" Mary said at once.