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“Do you mean to say that he made no allusion to it in his other letters?” interrupted the consul, glancing at Ailsa.

“There were no other letters at the time,” said Callender dryly. “But about a month afterwards we DID receive a letter from him enclosing a draft and a full return of the profits of the invention, which HE HAD SOLD IN HONDURAS. Ye’ll observe the deescrepancy! I then wrote to the bank on which I had drawn as you authorized me, and I found that they knew nothing of any damages awarded, but that the sum I had drawn had been placed to my credit by Mr. Robert Gray.”

In a flash the consul recalled the one or two questions that Gray had asked him, and saw it all. For an instant he felt the whole bitterness of Gray’s misplaced generosity–its exposure and defeat. He glanced again hopelessly at Ailsa. In the eye of that fresh, glowing, yet demure, young goddess, unhallowed as the thought might be, there was certainly a distinctly tremulous wink.

The consul took heart. “I believe I need not say, Mr. Callender,” he began with some stiffness, “that this is as great a surprise to me as to you. I had no reason to believe the transaction other than bona fide, and acted accordingly. If my friend, deeply sympathizing with your previous misfortune, has hit upon a delicate, but unbusiness-like way of assisting you temporarily–I say TEMPORARILY, because it must have been as patent to him as to you, that you would eventually find out his generous deceit–you surely can forgive him for the sake of his kind intention. Nay, more; may I point out to you that you have no right to assume that this benefaction was intended exclusively for you; if Mr. Gray, in his broader sympathy with you and your daughter, has in this way chosen to assist and strengthen the position of a gentleman so closely connected with you, but still struggling with hard fortune”–

“I’d have ye know, sir,” interrupted the old man, rising to his feet, “that ma frien’ Mr. James Gow is as independent of yours as he is of me and mine. He has married, sir, a Mrs. Hernandez, the rich widow of a coffee-planter, and now is the owner of the whole estate, minus the encumbrance of three children. And now, sir, you’ll take this,”–he drew from his pocket an envelope. “It’s a draft for five thousand dollars, with the ruling rate of interest computed from the day I received it till this day, and ye’ll give it to your frien’ when ye see him. And ye’ll just say to him from me”–

But Miss Ailsa, with a spirit and independence that challenged her father’s, here suddenly fluttered between them with sparkling eyes and outstretched hands.

“And ye’ll say to him from ME that a more honorable, noble, and generous man, and a kinder, truer, and better friend than he, cannot be found anywhere! And that the foolishest and most extravagant thing he ever did is better than the wisest and most prudent thing that anybody else ever did, could, or would do! And if he was a bit overproud–it was only because those about him were overproud and foolish. And you’ll tell him that we’re wearying for him! And when you give him that daft letter from father you’ll give him this bit line from me,” she went on rapidly as she laid a tiny note in his hand. “And,” with wicked dancing eyes that seemed to snap the last bond of repression, “ye’ll give him THAT too, and say I sent it!”

There was a stir in the official apartment! The portraits of Lincoln and Washington rattled uneasily in their frames; but it was no doubt only a discreet blast of the north wind that drowned the echo of a kiss.

“Ailsa!” gasped the shocked Mr. Callender.

“Ah! but, father, if it had not been for HIM we would not have known Robin.”

*****

It was the last that the consul saw of Ailsa Callender; for the next summer when he called at Loch Dour she was Mrs. Gray.