They talked about it a few minutes more, and Chris became more inclined to it.  From what he remembered of Beatrice and the impression that she had made on him in those few fierce minutes in Ralph’s house he began to see that she would probably be able to hold her own; and if only Margaret would take to her, the elder girl might be of great service in establishing the younger.  It was an odd and rather piquant idea, and gradually took hold of his imagination.  It was a very extreme step to take, considering that she had broken off her betrothal to the eldest son of the house; but against that was set the fact that she would not meet him there; and that her presence would be really valued by at least four-fifths of the household.

It was decided that Lady Torridon should be told immediately; and a day or two later Sir James came to Chris in the garden to tell him that she had consented.

“I do not understand it at all,” said the old man, “but your mother seemed very willing.  I wonder—­”

And then he stopped abruptly.

The letter was sent.  Chris saw it and the strong appeal it contained that Beatrice should come to the aid of a nun who was pining for want of companionship.  A day or two later brought down the answer that Mistress Atherton would have great pleasure in coming a week before Christmas.

* * * * *

Margaret had a fit of shyness when the day came for her arrival.  It was a clear frosty afternoon, with a keen turquoise sky overhead, and she wandered out in her habit down the slope to the moat, crossed the bridge, glancing at the thin ice and the sedge that pierced it, and came up into the private garden.  She knew she could hear the sounds of wheels from there, and had an instinctive shrinking from being at the house when the stranger arrived.

The grass walks were crisp to the foot; the plants in the deep beds rested in a rigid stillness with a black blossom or two drooping here and there; and the hollies beyond the yew hedge lifted masses of green lit by scarlet against the pale sky.  Her breath went up like smoke as she walked softly up and down.

There was no sound to disturb her.  Once she heard the clink of the blacksmith’s forge half a mile away in the village; once a blackbird dashed chattering from a hedge, scudded in a long dip, and rose again over it; a robin followed her in brisk hops, with a kind of pathetic impertinence in his round eye, as he wondered whether this human creature’s footsteps would not break the iron armour of the ground and give him a chance to live.

She wondered a thousand things as she went; what kind of a woman this was that was coming, how she would look, why she had not married Ralph, and above all, whether she understood—­whether she understood!