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she passed rapidly through the morass； and came to the farther end of it；
where a sluggish burn discharges； and the path for Hermiston accompanies
it on the beginning of its downward path。 From this corner a wide view
was opened to her of the whole stretch of braes upon the other side； still
sallow and in places rusty with the winter； with the path marked boldly；
here and there by the burn…side a tuft of birches； and … two miles off as the
crow flies … from its enclosures and young plantations； the windows of
Hermiston glittering in the western sun。
Here she sat down and waited； and looked for a long time at these far…
away bright panes of glass。 It amused her to have so extended a view； she
thought。 It amused her to see the house of Hermiston … to see 〃folk〃； and
there was an indistinguishable human unit； perhaps the gardener； visibly
sauntering on the gravel paths。
By the time the sun was down and all the easterly braes lay plunged in
clear shadow； she was aware of another figure coming up the path at a
most unequal rate of approach； now half running； now pausing and
seeming to hesitate。 She watched him at first with a total suspension of
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thought。 She held her thought as a person holds his breathing。 Then she
consented to recognise him。 〃He'll no be coming here； he canna be； it's no
possible。〃 And there began to grow upon her a subdued choking suspense。
He WAS coming； his hesitations had quite ceased； his step grew firm and
swift； no doubt remained； and the question loomed up before her instant：
what was she to do？ It was all very well to say that her brother was a laird
himself： it was all very well to speak of casual intermarriages and to count
cousinship； like Auntie Kirstie。 The difference in their social station was
trenchant； propriety； prudence； all that she had ever learned； all that she
knew； bade her flee。 But on the other hand the cup of life now offered to
her was too enchanting。 For one moment； she saw the question clearly； and
definitely made her choice。 She stood up and showed herself an instant in
the gap relieved upon the sky line； and the next； fled trembling and sat
down glowing with excitement on the Weaver's stone。 She shut her eyes；
seeking； praying for composure。 Her hand shook in her lap； and her mind
was full of incongruous and futile speeches。 What was there to make a
work about？ She could take care of herself； she supposed！ There was no
harm in seeing the laird。 It was the best thing that could happen。 She
would mark a proper distance to him once and for all。 Gradually the
wheels of her nature ceased to go round so madly； and she sat in passive
expectation； a quiet； solitary figure in the midst of the grey moss。 I have
said she was no hypocrite； but here I am at fault。 She never admitted to
herself that she had come up the hill to look for Archie。 And perhaps after
all she did not know； perhaps came as a stone falls。 For the steps of love in
the young； and especially in girls； are instinctive and unconscious。
In the meantime Archie was drawing rapidly near； and he at least was
consciously seeking her neighbourhood。 The afternoon had turned to ashes
in his mouth； the memory of the girl had kept him from reading and drawn
him as with cords； and at last； as the cool of the evening began to come on；
he had taken his hat and set forth； with a smothered ejaculation； by the
moor path to Cauldstaneslap。 He had no hope to find her； he took the off
chance without expectation of result and to relieve his uneasiness。 The
greater was his surprise； as he surmounted the slope and came into the
hollow of the Deil's Hags； to see there； like an answer to his wishes； the
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little womanly figure in the grey dress and the pink kerchief sitting little；
and low； and lost； and acutely solitary； in these desolate surroundings and
on the weather…beaten stone of the dead weaver。 Those things that still
smacked of winter were all rusty about her； and those things that already
relished of the spring had put forth the tender and lively colours of the
season。 Even in the unchanging face of the death…stone； changes were to
be remarked； and in the channeled lettering； the moss began to renew itself
in jewels of green。 By an afterthought that was a stroke of art； she had
turned up over her head the back of the kerchief； so that it now framed
becomingly her vivacious and yet pensive face。 Her feet were gathered
under her on the one side； and she leaned on her bare arm； which showed
out strong and round； tapered to a slim wrist； and shimmered in the fading
light。
Young Hermiston was struck with a certain chill。 He was reminded
that he now dealt in serious matters of life and death。 This was a grown
woman he was approaching； endowed with her mysterious potencies and
attractions； the treasury of the continued race； and he was neither better
nor worse than the average of his sex and age。 He had a certain delicacy
which had preserved him hitherto unspotted； and which （had either of
them guessed it） made him a more dangerous companion when his heart
should be really stirred。 His throat was dry as he came near； but the
appealing sweetness of her smile stood between them like a guardian
angel。
For she turned to him and smiled； though without rising。 There was a
shade in this cavalier greeting that neither of them perceived； neither he；
who simply thought it gracious and charming as herself； nor yet she； who
did not observe （quick as she was） the difference between rising to meet
the laird； and remaining seated to receive the expected admirer。
〃Are ye stepping west； Hermiston？〃 said she； giving him his territorial
name after the fashion of the country…side。
〃I was；〃 said he； a little hoarsely； 〃but I think I will be about the end of
my stroll now。 Are you like me； Miss Christina？ The house would not hold
me。 I came here seeking air。〃
He took his seat at the other end of the tombstone and studied her；
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wondering what was she。 There was infinite import in the question alike
for her and him。
〃Ay；〃 she said。 〃I couldna bear the roof either。 It's a habit of mine to
come up here about the gloaming when it's quaiet and caller。〃
〃It was a habit of my mother's also；〃 he said gravely。 The recollection
half startled him as he expressed it。 He looked around。 〃I have scarce been
here since。 It's peaceful；〃 he said； with a long breath。
〃It's no like Glasgow；〃 she replied。 〃A weary place； yon Glasgow！ But
what a day have I had for my homecoming； and what a bonny evening！〃
〃Indeed； it was a wonderful day；〃 said Archie。 〃I think I will remember
it years and years until I come to die。 On days like this … I do not know if
you feel as I do … but everything appears so brief； and fragile； and exquisite；
that I am afraid to touch life。 We are here for so short a time； and all the
old people before us … Rutherfords of Hermiston； Elliotts of the
Cauldstaneslap … that w