ene of terrors and danger--go with me to
Kintail--I will place you in the house of the noble Lady of Seaforth--or
you shall be removed in safety to Icolmkill, where some women yet devote
themselves to the worship of God, after the custom of our ancestors."

"You consider not what you ask of me," replied Annot; "to undertake such
a journey under your sole guardianship, were to show me less scrupulous
than maiden ought. I will remain here, Allan--here under the protection
of the noble Montrose; and when his motions next approach the Lowlands,
I will contrive some proper means to relieve you of one, who has, she
knows not how, become an object of dislike to you."

Allan stood as if uncertain whether to give way to sympathy with her
distress, or to anger at her resistance.

"Annot," he said, "you know too well how little your words apply to
my feelings towards you--but you avail yourself of your power, and you
rejoice in my departure, as removing a spy upon your intercourse with
Menteith. But beware both of you," he added, in a stern tone; "for when
was it ever heard that an injury was offered to Allan M'Aulay, for which
he exacted not tenfold vengeance?"

So saying, he pressed her arm forcibly, pulled the bonnet over his
brows, and strode out of the apartment.

CHAPTER XXI.

--After you're gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd,
What stirr'd it so.--Alas! I found it love.
Yet far from lust, for could I but have lived
In presence of you, I had had my end.--PHILASTER.

Annot Lyle had now to contemplate the terrible gulf which Allan
M'Aulay's declaration of love and jealousy had made to open around her.
It seemed as if she was tottering on the very brink of destruction, and
was at once deprived of every refuge, and of all human assistance. She
had long been conscious that she loved Menteith dearer than a brother;
indeed, how could it be otherwise, considering their early intimacy, the
personal merit of the young nobleman, his assiduous attentions,--and his
infinite superiority in gentleness of disposition, and grace of manners,
over the race of rude warriors with whom she lived? But her affection
was of that quiet, timid, meditative character, which sought rather a
reflected share in the happiness of the beloved object, than formed
more presumptuous or daring hopes. A little Gaelic song, in which she
expressed her feelings, has been translated by the ingenious and unhappy
An