king eyes, the strange longings which were revealed in the girl's
half-uttered sentences, filled his mind with unaccustomed thoughts.
That was why he found himself near the farmhouse, wondering whether he
should see her again. But he found no one there: the place might have
been forsaken. Wandering down the valley, however, he thought he heard
someone sobbing, and quickly discovered Jean Lindsay sitting by a
brook, crying as though her heart would break.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

For a moment the girl gave no reply. She seemed to resent his
presence, to be angry that he should have seen her in this frame of
mind.

"I am sure you must be in trouble," he went on; "tell me about it."

"She struck me," was her almost sullen reply.

"Struck you! Who?"

"My stepmother," she replied, "and I will not stand it, I will run
away; besides----" And then she stopped suddenly.

A little later her passion seemed to have subsided, and she was able to
speak more freely. For more than an hour they talked, and when they
parted she told him that on the following day she had to go to a
village some four miles distant.

That evening, at "Highlands," Douglas Graham was not an interesting
companion. The young people joked him about his solemn appearance, and
wondered why he looked so troubled.

"Anyone would think you were crossed in love, Douglas," said one.
"Tell us all about it now; has she run away with her father's coachman,
or has she jilted you for a handsomer man?"

But while Douglas replied to their good-tempered raillery in laughing
tones, it was easy to see that his mind was far away. For hours he lay
in bed that night without being able to sleep. The picture of the
dark-eyed sobbing girl remained with him, and all sorts of longings
filled his heart. It seemed as though the Scotch side of his nature
was altogether repressed. He was no longer cautious and calculating,
his mind and heart were full of the half savage beauty of the young
girl of the moors.

The next day he left his friends at "Highlands" without any excuse
whatever, and again wandered away alone. Near the village Jean Lindsay
had mentioned he saw her returning with a basket on her arm, and again
he entered into eager conversation with her. He forgot the foolishness
of his action, forgot the wrong he was doing to the girl by filling her
mind with thoughts about himself--for he could see that she was
attracted by him. To her he seemed so