But still she stood and watched the carriage till the beeches hid it from her view, and then, with her hand pressed against her side, she turned slowly into the hall.
As the carriage rolled down the stately avenue, Ranald sat absorbed in deepest thought, heeding not his companion's talk.
"What's the matter with you, Ranald?
What are you thinking of ?" at last cried Harry, impatiently.
"What ?" answered Ranald, in strange confusion, "I cannot tell you." Unconsciously as he spoke he put up his hand to his neck, for he was still feeling the pressure of those clinging arms, and all the way back the sounds of the rolling wheels and noisy, rattling streets wrought themselves into one sweet refrain, "You will not leave me, Ranald," and often in his heart he answered, "No, I will not," with such a look on his face as men wear when pledging life and honor..