Sandy looked at her keenly. "Eh, ye know't a'ready," he exclaimed,--"thething I came to say t' ye." And he paused, still eying her more like ajudge than a lover.

Little Bel turned scarlet. This was not her ideal of a wooer. "Knowwhat, Mr. Bruce?" she exclaimed resentfully. "How should I know what ye cameto say?"

"Tush! tush, lass! do na prevaricate," Sandy began, his eyes gloating onher lovely confusion; "do na preteend--" But the sweet black eyes weretoo much for him. Breaking down utterly, he tossed the guineas to oneside on the table, and stretching out both hands toward Bel, heexclaimed,--"Ye're the sweetest thing the eyes o' a mon ever rested on,lass, an' I'm goin' to win ye if ye'll let me." And as Bel opened hermouth to speak, he laid one hand, quietly as a mother might, across herlips, and continued: "Na! na! I'll not let ye speak yet. I'm not a sillyto look for ye to be ready to say me yes at this quick askin'; but I'llnot let ye say me nay neither. Ye'll not refuse me the only thing I'maskin' the day, an' that's that ye'll let me try to make ye love me.Ye'll not say nay to that, lass. I'll gie my life to it." And now hewaited for an answer.

None came. Tears were in Bel's eyes as she looked up inside his face. Twiceshe opened her lips to speak, and twice her heart and the words failedher. The tears became drops and rolled down the cheeks. Sandy wasdismayed.

"Ye're not afraid o' me, ye sweet thing, are ye?" he gasped out. "I'dnot vex ye for the world. If ye bid me to go, I'd go."