"Did you see that hare?" Fred Stanley called to them, looking back for a moment.
Meredyth did not pay much heed to the hare.
"Perhaps I have asked you too abruptly," he went on, in the same hurried and confused undertone. "Perhaps I am asking too much—that you should say something definite all at once. Very well: I will not press for an answer—I will wait—I will wait——"
They were emerging from the shadow of the larch trees; before them was an open space of gravel, white in the moonlight, and beyond that rose the grey walls and turrets of Lochgarra House.
"Only tell me this," said he, in a still lower voice, "tell me if there is any one before me. I have hesitated about speaking earlier because I imagined certain things—perhaps I was mistaken—at least you will tell me that—tell me if there is some one else——"
"No," said Mary, as they crossed that space of white moonlight, and perhaps she spoke a little proudly. "That—at least—I can assure you——"
"No one?" he said, eagerly, in the same undertone.
But here they were at the house—with Fred and Käthchen waiting for them on the grey stone terrace: these two had turned to look at the wonderful beauty of the night.
CHAPTER III.
A FORECAST.