“I know that,” said Rachel, “but I don’t think he ought to be trusted here; for you see,” and she looked down, “all the blindness of—­of his affection is enhanced by his nobleness and generosity, and he has nobody to check or stop him; and it does seem to me a shame for us all to catch at such compassion, and encumber him with me, just because I am marked for scorn and dislike.  I can’t get any one to help me look at it so.  My own people would fancy it was only that I did not care for him; and he—­I can’t even think about it when he is here, but I get quite distracted with doubts if it can be right whenever he goes away.  And you are the only person who can help me!  Bessie wrote very kindly to me, and I asked to see what she said to him.  I thought I might guess her feeling from it.  And he said he knew I should fancy it worse than it was if he did not let me see.  It was droll, and just like her—­not unkind, but I could see it is the property that makes her like it.  And his uncle is blind, you know, and could only send a blessing, and kind hopes, and all that.  Oh, if I could guess whether that uncle thinks he ought!  What does Colonel Keith think?  I know you will tell me truly.”

“He thinks,” said Ermine, with a shaken voice, “that real trustworthy affection outweighs all the world could say.”

“But he thinks it is a strange, misplaced liking, exaggerated by pity for one sunk so low?” said Rachel, in an excited manner.

“Rachel,” said Ermine, “you must take my beginning as a pledge of my speaking the whole truth.  Colonel Keith is certainly not fond of you personally, and rather wonders at Alick, but he has never doubted that this is the genuine feeling that is for life, and that it is capable of making you both better and happier.  Indeed, Rachel, we do both feel that you suit Alick much more than many people who have been far better liked.”

Rachel looked cheered.  “Yet you,” she faltered, “you have been an instance of resolute withstanding.”

“I don’t think I shall be long,” murmured Ermine, a vivid colour flashing forth upon her cheek, and leading the question from herself.  “Just suppose you did carry out this fierce act of self-abnegation, what do you think could come next?”

“I don’t know!  I would not break down or die if I could help it,” added Rachel, faintly after her brave beginning.

“And for him?  Do you think being cast off would be so very pleasant to him?”

Rachel hung her head, and her lips made a half murmur of, “Would not it be good for him?”

“No, Rachel, it is the very sorest trial there can be when, even in the course of providence, kind intentions are coldly requited; and it would be incalculably harder when therewith there would be rejection of love.”

“Ah!  I never said I could do it.  I could not tell him I did not care for him, and short of that nothing would stop it,” sobbed Rachel, “only I wished to feel it was not very mean—­very wrong.”  She laid her weary head on Ermine’s lap, and Ermine bent down and kissed her.