la, after the time you have been married to her, as to
imagine that she has taken this step out of some momentary caprice, and
that a few words of apology and promise will cause her to rescind it?
You must be crazed, Lavender, or else you are actually as ignorant of
the nature of that girl as you were up in the Highlands."

The young man seemed to calm down his excitement and impatience, but it
was because of a new fear that had struck him, and that was visible in
his face. "Do you think she will never come back, Ingram?" he said,
looking aghast.

"I don't know: she may not. At all events, you may be quite sure that,
once having resolved to leave your house, she is not to be pacified and
cajoled by a few phrases and a promise of repentance on your part. That
is quite sure. And what is quite as sure is this, that if you knew just
now where she was, the most foolish thing you could do would be to go
and see her."

"But I must go and see her--I must find her out, Ingram," he said
passionately. "I don't care what becomes of me. If she won't go back
home, so much the worse for me; but I _must_ find her out, and know that
she is safe. Think of it, Ingram! Perhaps she is walking about the
streets somewhere at this moment; and you know her proud spirit. If she
were to go near the river--"

"She won't go near the river," said Ingram quietly, "and she won't be
walking about the streets. She is either in the Scotch mail-train, going
up to Glasgow, or else she has got some lodgings somewhere, along with
Mairi. Has she any money?"

"No," said Lavender. And then he thought for a minute. "There was some
money her father gave her in case she might want it at a pinch: she may
have that--I hope she has that. I was to have given her money to-morrow
morning. But hadn't I better go to the police-stations, and see, just
by way of precaution, that she has not been heard of? I may as well do
that as nothing. I could not go home to that empty house--I could not
sleep."

"Sheila is a sensible girl: she is safe enough," said Ingram. "And if
you don't care about going home, you may as well remain here. I can give
you a room up stairs when you want it. In the mean time, if you will
pull a chair to the table and calm yourself, and take it for granted
that you will soon be assured of Sheila's safety, I will tell you what I
think you should do. Here is a cigar to keep you occupied: there are
whisky and cold water back there if you like. You wil