And every body had of course suspected it long ago, and was not in the least surprised, so that the mistress of the household herself was half ashamed to confess how very much surprised she had been.  However, as every body seemed delighted, for most people have a “sneaking kindness” toward young lovers, she kept her own counsel; smiled blandly over her old cook’s half-pathetic congratulations to the young couple, who were “like the young bears, with all their troubles before them,” and laughed at the sympathetic forebodings of the girls’ faithful maid, a rather elderly person, who was supposed to have been once “disappointed,” and who “hoped Mr. Dalziel was not too young to know his own mind.”  Still, in spite of all, the family were very much delighted, and not a little proud.

David walked in, master of the position now, directly after breakfast, and took the sisters out for a walk, both of them, declaring he was as much encumbered as if he were going to marry two young ladies at once, but bearing his lot with great equanimity.  His love-making indeed was so extraordinarily open and undisguised that it did not much matter who was by.  And Helen was of that sweet negative nature that seemed made for the express purpose of playing “gooseberry.”

Directly they had departed, Mr. Roy came in.

He might have been a far less acute observer than he was not to detect at once that “something had happened” in the little family.  Miss Williams kept him waiting several minutes, and when she did come in her manner was nervous and agitated.  They spoke about the weather and one or two trivial things, but more than once Fortune felt him looking at her with that keen, kindly observation which had been sometimes, during all these weeks now running into months, of almost daily meeting, and of the closest intimacy—­a very difficult thing to bear.

He was exceedingly kind to her always; there was no question of that.  Without making any show of it, he seemed always to know where she was and what she was doing.  Nothing ever lessened his silent care of her.  If ever she wanted help, there he was to give it.  And in all their excursions she had a quiet conviction that whoever forgot her or her comfort, he never would.  But then it was his way.  Some men have eyes and ears for only one woman, and that merely while they happen to be in love with her; whereas Robert Roy was courteous and considerate to every woman, even as he was kind to every weak or helpless creature that crossed his path.

Evidently he perceived that all was not right; and, though he said nothing, there was a tenderness in his manner which went to her heart.

“You are not looking well to-day; should you not go out?” he said.  “I met all your young people walking off to the sands:  they seemed extraordinarily happy.”