"Then it seems to me thou should take me to Edinburgh. I want that something, that polish, only great cities can give me."

"Blessings on thee! All Edinburgh can give, thou shalt have! But it is my advice to thee to remain here until Mrs. Brodie goes back, then go thou with her."

"That will be what it should be. Mrs. Brodie, I feel, will be my stepmother; and----"

"She will never step past thee. Fear not!"

"Nor will any one--man or woman--step between thee and me! Doubt me not!"

"Well, then, have thy way. I give thee my word to take thee to Edinburgh in the autumn. Thou shalt either stay with Mrs. Brodie or at the Queen's Hotel on Prince's Street, with old Adam Vedder."

"Best of all is thy last offer. I will stay with thee. I am used to men's society. Women bore me."

"Women bore me also."

"Know this, there are three women who do not bore thee. Shall I speak their names?"

"I will not hinder thee."

"Sunna Vedder?"

"I love her. She cannot bore me."

"Rahal Ragnor?"

"I respect her. She does not bore me--often."

"Yes, that is so; it is but seldom thou sees her. Well, then, Barbara Brodie?"

"I once loved her. She can never be indifferent to me."

"Thou hast told me the truth and I will not follow up this catechism."

"For that favour, I am thy debtor. I might not always have been so truthful. Now, then, be honest with me. What wilt thou do all the summer, with no lover to wait on thy whims and fancies?"

"On thee I shall rely. Where thou goes, I will go, and if thou stay at home, with thee I will stay. Thou can read to me. I have never heard any of our great Sagas and that is a shame. I complain of that neglect in my education! I heard Maximus Grant recite from 'The Banded Men and Haakon the Good,' when I was in Edinburgh, and I said to myself, 'how much finer is this, than opera songs, sung with a Scotch burr, in the Italian; or than English songs, sung by Scotch people who p.r.o.nounce English after the Scotch fashion!' Then I made up my mind that this coming winter I would let Edinburgh drawing-rooms hear the songs of Norse warriors; the songs in which the armour rattles and the swords shine!"

"That, indeed, will befit thee! Now, then, for the summer, keep thyself well in hand. Say nothing of thy plans, for if but once the wind catches them, they will soon be for every one to talk to death."

Adam was finishing his plate of rice pudding and cream when he gave this advice; and with it, he moved his chair from the table and said: "Come into the garden. I want to smoke. Thou knows a good dinner deserves a pipe, and a bad one demands it."

Then they went into the garden and talked of the flowers and the young vegetables, and said not a word of Edinburgh and the Sagas that the winds could catch and carry round to human folk for clash and gossip.

And when the pipe was out, Adam said: "Now I am going into the town.

That Burns story is on my lips, my teeth cannot keep my tongue behind them much longer."

"A good time will be thine. I wish that I could go with thee."

"What wilt thou do?"

"Braid my hair and dress myself. Then I shall take out thy Saga of 'The Banded Men' and study the men who were banded, and find them out, in all their clever ways. Then I can show them to others. If I get tired of them--and I do get tired of men very quickly--I will put on my bonnet and tippet, and go and carry Mrs. Brodie thy respectful----"

"Take care, Sunna!"

"Good wishes! I can surely go so far."

"Know this--every step on that road may lead to danger--and thou cannot turn back and tread them the other way. There now, be off! I will talk with thee no longer."

Sunna said something about Burns in reply, but Vedder heard her not.

He was satisfying his vocal impatience by whistling softly and very musically "The Garb of Old Gaul," and Sunna watched and listened a moment, and then in something of a hurry went to her room. A new thought had come to her--one which pleased her very much; and she proceeded to dress herself accordingly.

"None too good is my Easter gown," she said pleasantly to herself; "and I can take Eric a basket of the oranges grandfather brought home today. A treat to the dear little lad they will be. Before me is a long afternoon, and I shall find the proper moment to ask the advice of Maximus about 'The Banded Men.'" So with inward smiles she dressed herself, and then took the highway in a direction not very often taken by her.

It led her to a handsome mansion overlooking the Venice of the Orcades, the village and the wonderful Bay of Kirkwall, into which

... by night and day, The great sea water finds its way Through long, long windings of the hills.

The house had a silent look, and its enclosure was strangely quiet, though kept in exquisite order and beauty. As she approached, a lady about fifty years old came to the top of the long, white steps to meet her, appearing to be greatly pleased with her visit.

"Only at dinner time Max was speaking of thee! And Eric said his sweetheart had forgotten him, and wondering we all were, what had kept thee so long away."

"Well, then, thou knowest about the war and the enlisting--everyone, in some way, has been touched by the changes made."

"True is that! Quickly thou must come in, for Eric has both second-sight and hearing, and no doubt he knows already that here thou art----" and talking thus as she went, Mrs. Beaton led the way up a wide, light stairway. Even as Mrs. Beaton was speaking a thin, eager voice called Sunna's name, a door flew open, and a man, beautiful as a dream-man, stood in the entrance to welcome them. And here the word "beautiful" need not to be erased; it was the very word that sprang naturally from the heart to the lips of every one when they met Maximus Grant. No Greek sculptor ever dreamed of a more perfect form and face; the latter illumined by noticeable grey eyes, contemplative and mystical, a face, thoughtful and winning, and constantly breaking into kind smiles.

He took Sunna's hand, and they went quickly forward to a boy of about eleven years old, whom Sunna kissed and petted. The little lad was in a pa.s.sion of delight. He called her "his sweetheart! his wife! his Queen!" and made her take off her bonnet and cloak and sit down beside him. He was half lying in a softly cushioned chair; there was a large globe at his side, and an equally large atlas, with other books on a small table near by, and Max's chair was close to the whole arrangement. He was a fair, lovely boy, with the seraphic eyes that sufferers from spinal diseases so frequently possess--eyes with the look in them of a Conqueror of Pain. But also, on his young face there was the solemn Trophonean pallor which signs those who daily dare "to look at death in the cave."

"Max and I have been to the Greek islands," he said, "and Sunna, as soon as I am grown up, and am quite well, I shall ask thee to marry me, and then we will go to one of the loveliest of them and live there. Max thinks that would be just right."

"Thou little darling," answered Sunna, "when thou art a man, if thou ask me to marry thee, I shall say 'yes!'"

"Of course thou wilt. Sunna loves Eric?"

"I do, indeed, Eric! I think we should be very happy. We should never quarrel or be cross with each other."

"Oh! I would not like that! If we did not quarrel, there would be no making-up. I remember papa and mamma making-up their little tiffs, and they seemed to be very happy about it--and to love each other ever so much better for the tiff and the make-up. I think we must have little quarrels, Sunna; and then, long, long, happy makings-up."

"Very well, Eric; only, thou must make the quarrel. With thee I could not quarrel."

"I should begin it in this way: 'Sunna, I do not approve of thy dancing with--say--Ken McLeod.' Then thou wilt say: 'I shall dance with whom I like, Eric'; and I will reply: 'thou art my wife and I will not allow thee to dance with McLeod'; and then thou wilt be naughty and saucy and proud, and I shall have to be angry and masterful; and as thou art going out of the room in a terrible temper, I shall say, 'Sunna!' in a sweet voice, and look at thee, and thou wilt look at me, with those heavenly eyes, and then I shall open my arms and thou wilt fly to my embrace, and the making-up will begin."

"Well, then, that will be delightful, Eric, but thou must not accuse me of anything so bad as dancing with Mr. McLeod."

"Would that be bad to thee?"

"Very bad, indeed! I fear I would never try to have a 'make-up' with any one who thought I would dance with him."

"Dost thou dislike him?"