And all this had taken place so rapidly that even Käthchen was a little bewildered. How had such a mighty revolution come about within the space of two or three swift seconds? A few minutes before, and Mary Stanley would not have allowed this young man's name to have passed her lips; and now she was regarding him with the most obvious favour, and smiling and talking with an eager delight; while his keen, dark face and expressive eyes answered her in kind. Kate Glendinning, as they walked on towards the house, did not seek to interfere in this conversation: to watch the demeanour of those two was of far greater interest to her than any question connected with the Free Library. And Käthchen, if she did not talk to them, could commune with herself. 'Mamie,' she was saying, in this secret fashion, 'you should not show yourself so anxious to please. It isn't like you. If you are overjoyed to be on friendly terms with him again, don't make it so manifest. You shouldn't seek him; let him seek you. And don't allow your eyes to say quite so much: do you know that they are just laughing with gladness?' And then, as they were passing into the hall, the door leading out on to the garden-terrace recalled a certain little incident. 'Poor Mr. Meredyth!' said Käthchen to herself.
In the drawing-room, again, Mary plied this guest of hers with every kind of pretty attention; and seemed very pleased and happy; while she grew almost reckless in her philanthropic schemes. Indeed, it was Donald Ross himself who had to interpose to put a check on her generous enthusiasm.
"No, no," he said, with a smile, and yet with a certain quiet and masterful air that was habitual with him, "you must not do anything of the kind. Giving them Meall-na-Cruagan was quite enough. You must not think of giving up Meall-na-Fearn as well. You would be crippling Mr. Watson to no purpose. The crofters have quite enough pasture now for their stock.
"Yes, but I want to do everything," she insisted, "I want to try everything that can be thought of—everything—before coming to the last confession of failure: and you know what that is?"
"What?"
"Why, emigration. Oh, I haven't forgotten your threat," she said, with some little touch of confusion in her smiling eyes, "to take away the people with you to Canada or New South Wales, or some such place. And—and I don't want that. That seems to me ignominious. That seems to me simply a confession of failure."
"At all events," said he, "it was not as a threat that I made the suggestion. I thought it would help you."
"Oh," said she, with her face flushing a little, "but I don't want anybody to go away. Surely something else should be tried first. There are many things to be done. I want to have many more looms going; and the fishing developed; and several new industries started—perhaps even kelp-burning, if there are sufficient beds of seaweed. Why, I consider I am only beginning now. I have been simply clearing the way—getting fair rents fixed—and all that; and—and I don't want to be interfered with, in that rude fashion. Give me time. Let me have my chance first. Then if I fail——"
"Oh, but we shan't talk of failure," said he, good-naturedly. "Failure would be too cruel a return for all your kindness to these people."
He stayed till very near dinner-time: those two seemed to have so much to say to each other—and not about the Lochgarra estate only. Directly he had gone, Mary said, in quite an eager and excited fashion—