But Gilian was not Jenny.

Each of Jarvis Barrow’s granddaughters had her own small bedroom.  Three nights after Gilian’s home-coming she came, when the candles were out, into Elspeth’s room.  It was September and, for the season, warm.  A great round moon poured its light into the little room.  Elspeth was seated upon her bed.  Her hair was loosened and fell over her white gown.  Her feet were under her; she sat like an Eastern carving, still in the moonlight.

“Elspeth!”

Elspeth took a moment to come back to White Farm.  “What is it, Gilian?”

Gilian moved to the window and sat in it.  She had not undressed.  The moon silvered her, too.  “What has happened, Elspeth?”

“Naught.  What should happen?”

“It’s no use telling me that.—­We’ve been away from each other almost a year.  I know that I’ve changed, grown, in that time, and it’s natural that you should do the same.  But it’s something besides that!”

Elspeth laughed and her laughter was like a little, cold, mirthless chime of silver bells.  “You’re fanciful, Gilian!...  We’re no longer lassies; we’re women!  So the colors of things get a little different—­that’s all!”

“Don’t you love me, Elspeth?”

“Yes, I love you.  What has that to do with it?”

“Has it not?  Has love naught to do with it?  Love at all—­all love?”

Elspeth parted her long dark hair into two waves, drew it before her, and began to braid it, sitting still, her limbs under her, upon the bed.  “I saw you on the moor walking and talking with grandfather.  What did he say to you?”

“You are changed and I said that you were changed.  He had not noticed—­he would not be like to notice!  Then he told me about the laird and you.”

“Yes.  About the laird and me.”

“You couldn’t love him?  They say he is a fine man.”

“No, I couldn’t love him.  I like him.  He understands.  No one is to blame.”

“But if it is not that, what is it—­what is it, Elspeth?”

“It’s naught—­naught—­naught, I tell you!”

“It’s a strange naught that makes you like a dark lady in a ballad-book!”

Elspeth laughed again.  “Didn’t I say that you were fanciful?  It’s late and I am sleepy.”

That had been while the leaves were still upon the trees.  The next morning and thenceforward Elspeth seemed to make a point of cheerfulness.  It passed with her aunt and the helpers in the house.  Jarvis Barrow appeared to take no especial note if women laughed or sighed, so long as they lived irreproachably.

The leaves bronzed, the autumn rains came, the leaves fell, the trees stood bare, the winds began to blow, there fell the first snowflakes.  Gilian, walking home from the town, was overtaken on the moor by Robin Greenlaw.

“Where is Elspeth?”

“We are making our winter dresses.  She would not leave her sewing.”