This rigorous representative of his
class took the message delivered to him, and stood for a moment
hesitatingly in the doorway.
"Your people are quite well, I hope, Tredway," said Allan.
"Yes, sir, thank you. Quite well, with the exception of Miss Rose. She
is looking badly."
"I am very sorry. I made no inquiries about her, because, since her
accident last summer, she has never been otherwise than well. I wish,"
and his tones were sad and sincere as his meaning, "that I could do
something for her."
"Thank you, sir. It is taking a great liberty to say so, but your
visits are so infrequent that I believe Miss Rose is under the
impression that you did not greatly care."
"Oh, I _care_ enough, quite enough," he added mentally. "The fact is
there is danger of my caring too much, and nobody knows better than
you, Tredway, that that would be the greatest piece of folly I could
perpetrate. Miss Rose is vastly my social superior."
The old man bowed his head as though this were too obvious a truth to
need comment. Then he said encouragingly:
"Ah, there is nothing but the remains of their former greatness left
to the Macleods.
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