Something in the attitude of the two struck the lady with suspicion.  Was it possible that she had been blind, and that her nephew was about to confuse her cherished schemes?  This innocent woman, who went through the world as not being of it, had fancied that already Alice had fallen in with her plans.  She had seemed to court Mr. Stocks’s company, while he most certainly sought eagerly for hers.  But Lewis, if he entered the lists, would be a perplexing combatant, and Lady Manorwater called her gods to witness that it should not be.  Many motives decided her against it.  She hated that a scheme of her own once made should be checkmated, though it were by her dearest friend.  More than all, her pride was in arms.  Lewis was a dazzling figure; he should make a great match; money and pretty looks and parvenu blood were not enough for his high mightiness.

So it came about that, when they had explored the house, circumnavigated the loch, and had tea on a lawn of heather, she informed her party that she must get out at Haystounslacks, for she wished to see the farmer, and asked Bertha to keep her company.  The young woman agreed readily, with the result that Alice and Mr. Stocks were left sole occupants of the carriage for the better half of the way.  The man was only too willing to seize the chance thus divinely given him.  His irritation at Lewis’s projects had been tempered by Alice’s kindness at lunch and Wratislaw’s unlooked-for complaisance.  Things looked rosy for him; far off, as on the horizon of his hopes, he saw a seat in Parliament and a fair and amply dowered wife.

But Miss Wishart was scarcely in so pleasant a humour.  With Lewis she was undeniably cross, but of Mr. Stocks she was radically intolerant.  A moment of pique might send her to his side, but the position was unnatural and could not be maintained.  Even now Lewis was in her thoughts.  Fragments of his odd romantic speech clove to her memory.  His figure—­for he showed to perfection in his own surroundings—­was so comely and gallant, so bright with the glamour of adventurous youth, that for a moment this prosaic young woman was a convert to the coloured side of life and had forgotten her austere creed.

Mr. Stocks went about his duty with praise-worthy thoroughness.  For the fiftieth time in a week he detailed to her his prospects.  When he had raised a cloud-built castle of fine hopes, when he had with manly simplicity repeated his confession of faith, he felt that the crucial moment had arrived.  Now, when she looked down the same avenue of prospect as himself, he could gracefully ask her to adorn the fair scene with her presence.

“Alice,” he said, and at the sound of her name the girl started from a reverie in which Lewis was not absent, and looked vacantly in his face.

He took it for maidenly modesty.

“I have wanted to speak to you for long, Alice.  We have seen a good deal of each other lately, and I have come to be very fond of you.  I trust you may have some liking for me, for I want you to promise to be my wife.”