“No; I see no reason for denying myself that; indeed I believe it is better for him to grow used to me as I am, and be convinced of the impossibility.”

“Well then, why will you not come to me?”

“Do you not see, in all your kindness, that my coming to you would make every one know the terms between us, while no one remarks his just coming to me here as an old friend?  And if he were ever to turn his mind to any one else—­”

“He will never do that, I am sure.”

“There is no knowing.  He has never been, in his own estimation, disengaged from me,” said Ermine; “his brother is bent on his marrying, and he ought to be perfectly free to do so, and not under the disadvantage that any report of this affair would be to him.”

“Well, I am sure he never will,” said Fanny, almost petulantly; “I know I shall hate her, that’s all.”

Ermine thought her own charity towards Mrs. Colin Keith much more dubious than Lady Temple’s, but she continued—­

“At any rate you will be so very kind as not to let any one know of it.  I am glad you do.  I should not feel it right that you should not, but it is different with others.”

“Thank you.  And if you will not come to me, you will let me come to you, won’t you?  It will be so nice to come and talk him over with you.  Perhaps I shall persuade you some of these days after all.  Only I must go now, for I always give the children their tea on Sunday.  But please let your dear little niece come up to-morrow and play with them; the little Hammonds will be there, she is just their age.”

Ermine felt obliged to grant this at least, though she was as doubtful of her shy Rose’s happiness as of the expedience of the intimacy; but there was no being ungracious to the gentle visitor, and no doubt Ermine felt rejoiced and elevated.  She did not need fresh assurances of Colin’s constancy, but the affectionate sister-like congratulations of this loving, winning creature, showed how real and in earnest his intentions were.  And then Lady Temple’s grateful esteem for him being, as it was, the reflection of her husband’s, was no small testimony to his merits.

“Pretty creature!” said Ermine to herself, “really if it did come to that, I could spare him to her better than to any one else.  She has some notion how to value him.”

Alison and Rose had, in the meantime, been joined by Colonel Keith and the boys, whom Alick had early deserted in favour of a sunny sandy nook.  The Colonel’s purpose was hard on poor Alison; it was to obtain her opinion of her sister’s decision, and the likelihood of persistence in it.  It was not, perhaps, bad for either that they conversed under difficulties, the boys continually coming back to them from excursions on the rocks, and Rose holding her aunt’s hand all the time, but to be sure Rose had heard nearly all the Colonel’s affairs, and somehow mixed him up with Henry of Cranstoun.