But the Whaup himself was troubled by the acquaintance of Coquette with Lord Earlshope, which, from a casual meeting, developed with startling rapidity.

His lordship’s reputation in the parish was far from good.  He never attended the kirk; was seen walking about with his dogs and smoking on the Sabbath; and even, it was said, read novels on that holy day.  His appearance in church on the first Sunday after Coquette’s arrival in Airlie was not difficult to explain, and it was followed by interchanges of visits between the Manse and Earlshope House.

Soon the young lord and Coquette began to meet when she was taking her early walk, a form of “carrying on” which outraged the sentiments of the parish, and caused the Whaup to announce his intention of “giving her up” and going to sea.

The alienation of the Whaup made Coquette very miserable, and when her uncle discovered her walking alone with Lord Earlshope, she tearfully requested to be allowed to go back to France.

“I am suspected,” she sobbed, in her foreign English; “I do hear they talk of me as dangerous.  Is it wrong for me to speak to Lord Earlshope when I do see him kind to me?  Since I left France I did meet no one so courteous as he has been.  He does not think me wicked because I have a crucifix my mother gave me, and he does not suspect me.”

Her second conquest—­for the Whaup, on seeing her dejection, had relented and returned to his allegiance—­was Leezibeth, and it was by music she was won.  Coquette was playing and singing “The Flowers o’ the Forest,” when Leezibeth crept in, and said shamefacedly: 

“Will ye sing that again, miss?  Maybe ye’ll no ken that me and Andrew had a boy—­a bit laddie that dee’d when he was but seven years auld—­and he used to sing the ‘Flowers o’ the Forest’ afore a’ the ither songs, and ye sing it that fine it makes a body amaist like to greet.”

And from that day Leezibeth was the slave of Coquette; but, for the most part, the thoughts of her neighbours were no kinder to the gay and spontaneous “daughter of Heth” from the sunny South than were the grey and dreary skies of Scotland.

II.—­The Lovers of Coquette

When Sir Peter and Lady Drum returned to Castle Cawmil, their home in the neighbourhood of Airlie, Lady Drum, whose joy it was to doctor her friends, prescribed at once a cruise for the drooping Coquette.  And Lord Earlshope lent his yacht, and accompanied the party as a visitor.  The minister, looking back anxiously at his parish, Coquette, and the Whaup, joined the party from the Manse.

On Coquette the cruise worked wonders.  She recovered her spirits, and her cheeks flushed with happiness.

“You’re a pretty invalid,” said the Whaup to Coquette as they went ashore for a scramble.  “Give me your hand if you want climbing, and I’ll give you enough of it.”

“No,” said Coquette, “I will not be pulled by a big, rough boy; but when you are gentle like Lord Earlshope, I like you.”  Then, lest Tom should be hurt, she added:  “You are a very good boy, Tom, and somebody will get very fond of you some day.”