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〃No！ no！ no！〃 he exclaimed。 〃You mustn't think that！ Certainly not silly。〃
I do not think he knew that he put out his hand and gently touched my arm； as one might touch a child to make it feel one wanted it to listen。
〃You don't know；〃 he said in his low； slow voice； 〃how glad I am that you have talked to me。 Sir Ian said you were not fond of talking to people； and I wanted to know you。〃
〃You care about places like Muircarrie。 That is why；〃 I answered； feeling at once how much he understood。 〃I care for Muircarrie more than for all the rest of the world。 And I suppose you saw it in my face。 I dare say that the people who love that kind of life cannot help seeing it there。〃
〃Yes；〃 he said； 〃it is in your eyes。 It was what I saw and found myself wondering about when I watched you in the train。 It was really the moor and the mist and the things you think are hidden in it。〃
〃Did you watch me？〃 I asked。 〃I could not help watching you a little； when you were so kind to the poor woman。 I was afraid you would see me and think me rude。〃
〃It was the far look in your face I watched；〃 he said。 〃If you will come to tea under the big apple…tree I will tell you more about it。〃
〃Indeed I will come；〃 I answered。 〃Now we must go and sit among the other people those who don't care about Muircarrie at all。〃
CHAPTER V
I went to tea under the big apple…tree。 It was very big and old and wonderful。 No wonder Mr。 MacNairn and his mother loved it。 Its great branches spread out farther than I had ever seen the branches of an apple…tree spread before。 They were gnarled and knotted and beautiful with age。 Their shadows upon the grass were velvet； deep and soft。 Such a tree could only have lived its life in such a garden。 At least it seemed so to me。 The high； dim…colored walls； with their curious； low corner towers and the leafage of the wall fruits spread against their brick； inclosed it embracingly； as if they were there to take care of it and its beauty。 But the tree itself seemed to have grown there in all its dignified loveliness of shadow to take care of Mrs。 MacNairn； who sat under it。 I felt as if it loved and was proud of her。
I have heard clever literary people speak of Mrs。 MacNairn as a 〃survival of type。〃 Sometimes clever people bewilder me by the terms they use； but I thought I understood what they meant in her case。 She was quite unlike the modern elderly woman； and yet she was not in the least old…fashioned or demodee。 She was only exquisitely distinct。
When she rose from her chair under the apple…tree boughs and came forward to meet me that afternoon； the first things which struck me were her height and slenderness and her light step。 Then I saw that her clear profile seemed cut out of ivory and that her head was a beautiful shape and was beautifully set。 Its every turn and movement was exquisite。 The mere fact that both her long； ivory hands enfolded mine thrilled me。 I wondered if it were possible that she could be unaware of her loveliness。 Beautiful people are thrilling to me； and Mrs。 MacNairn has always seemed more so than any one else。 This is what her son once said of her：
〃She is not merely beautiful； she is Beauty Beauty's very spirit moving about among us mortals； pure Beauty。〃
She drew me to a chair under her tree； and we sat down together。 I felt as if she were glad that I had come。 The watching look I had seen in her son's eyes was in hers also。 They watched me as we talked； and I found myself telling her about my home as I had found myself telling him。 He had evidently talked to her about it himself。 I had never met any one who thought of Muircarrie as I did； but it seemed as if they who were strangers were drawn by its wild； beautiful loneliness as I was。
I was happy。 In my secret heart I began to ask myself if it could be true that they made me feel a little as if I somehow belonged to some one。 I had always seemed so detached from every one。 I had not been miserable about it； and I had not complained to myself； I only accepted the detachment as part of my kind of life。
Mr。 MacNairn came into the garden later and several other people came in to tea。 It was apparently a sort of daily customthat people who evidently adored Mrs。 MacNairn dropped in to see and talk to her every afternoon。 She talked wonderfully； and her friends' joy in her was wonderful； too。 It evidently made people happy to be near her。 All she said and did was like her light step and the movements of her delicate； fine headgracious and soft and arrestingly lovely。 She did not let me drift away and sit in a corner looking on； as I usually did among strangers。 She kept me near her； and in some subtle； gentle way made me a part of all that was happeningthe talk； the charming circle under the spreading boughs of the apple…tree； the charm of everything。 Sometimes she would put out her exquisite； long… fingered hand and touch me very lightly； and each time she did it I felt as if she had given me new life。
There was an interesting elderly man who came among the rest of the guests。 I was interested in him even before she spoke to me of him。 He had a handsome； aquiline face which looked very clever。 His talk was brilliantly witty。 When he spoke people paused as if they could not bear to lose a phrase or even a word。 But in the midst of the trills of laughter surrounding him his eyes were unchangingly sad。 His face laughed or smiled； but his eyes never。
〃He is the greatest artist in England and the most brilliant man；〃 Mrs。 MacNairn said to me； quietly。 〃But he is the saddest； too。 He had a lovely daughter who was killed instantly； in his presence； by a fall。 They had been inseparable companions and she was the delight of his life。 That strange； fixed look has been in his eyes ever since。 I know you have noticed it。〃
We were walking about among the flower… beds after tea； and Mr。 MacNairn was showing me a cloud of blue larkspurs in a corner when I saw something which made me turn toward him rather quickly。
〃There is one！〃 I said。 〃Do look at her！ Now you see what I mean！ The girl standing with her hand on Mr。 Le Breton's arm。〃
Mr。 Le Breton was the brilliant man with the sad eyes。 He was standing looking at a mass of white…and…purple iris at the other side of the garden。 There were two or three people with him； but it seemed as if for a moment he had forgotten themhad forgotten where he was。 I wondered suddenly if his daughter had been fond of irises。 He was looking at them with such a tender； lost expression。 The girl； who was a lovely； fair thing； was standing quite close to him with her hand in his arm； and she was smiling； toosuch a smile！
〃Mr。 Le Breton！〃 Mr。 MacNairn said in a rather startled tone。 〃The girl with her hand in his arm？〃
〃Yes。 You see how fair she is；〃 I answered。
〃And she has that transparent look。 It is so lovely。 Don't you think so？ SHE is one of the White People。〃
He stood very still； looking across the flowers at the group。 There was a singular interest and intensity in his expression。 He watched the pair silently for a whole minute； I think。
〃Ye…es；〃 he said； slowly； at last； 〃I do see what y