on Ralph's shoulder. "We will go
together," he said, and they walked towards the stair that led to the
floor above.

There she lay, the mother of these stricken sons, unconscious of their
sufferings, unconscious of her own. Yet she lived. Since the terrible
intelligence had reached her of what had happened on the pass she had
remained in this state of insensibility, being stricken into such
torpidity by the shock of the occurrence. Willy's tears fell fast as
he stood by the bed, and his anguish was subdued thereby to a quieter
mood. Ralph's sufferings were not so easily fathomable. He stooped and
kissed the unconscious face without relaxing a muscle in the settled
fixity of his own face. Leaving his brother in the room, he returned
to the kitchen. How strange the old place looked to him now! Had
everything grown strange? There were the tall clock in the corner, the
big black worm-eaten oak cabinet, half-cupboard, half-drawers; there
was the long table like a rock of granite; there was the spinning
wheel in the neuk window; and there were the whips and the horns on
the rafters overhead--yet how unfamiliar it all seemed to be!

Rotha was hastily preparing supper for him. He sat on the settle that
was drawn up before the fire, and threw off his heavy and sodden
shoes. His clothes, which had been saturated by the rain of the
preceding night, had dried upon his back. He was hungry; he had hot
eaten since yesterday at midday; and when food was put upon the table
he ate with the voracious appetite that so often follows upon a long
period of mental distress.

As he sat at his supper, his eyes followed constantly the movements of
the girl, who was busied about him in the duties of the household. It
were not easy to say with what passion or sentiment his heart was
struggling with respect to her. He saw her as a hope gone from him, a
joy not to be grasped, a possible fulfilment of that part of his
nature which was never to be fulfilled. And she? Was she conscious of
any sentiment peculiar to herself respecting this brave rude man,
whose heart was tender enough to be drawn towards her and yet strong
enough to be held apart at the awful bidding of an iron fate? Perhaps
not. She in turn felt drawn towards him; she knew the force of a
feeling that made him a centre of her thoughts, a point round which
her deeper emotions insensibly radiated. But this was associated in
her mind with no idea of love. If affection touched her at all,