aster overtaken her? Whither had she gone?

The story that Elspeth Blackfell had told him had sunk deep in his mind.
It explained many things that had before been mysteries to him. He saw
in it an explanation of why he had been drawn in affection towards
Aasta, and why, in spite of her having been a bondmaid, he had
recognized that she was of gentle blood. He was glad that he had given
her freedom from her thralldom. And now he thought of how she had
bestowed upon him the great sword of his noble ancestor, and reflected
that king Somerled was in truth Aasta's ancestor no less than his own.
How sweet it was to think of the journey he had gone with her over to
Gigha, the home from which as a child she had been carried off with
Lulach! It was easy now to understand how she had recognized that rock
tunnel through which the little coracle had been paddled. Aasta had
thought that she had but seen the place in a dream vision, but haply she
had many a time played among those rocky caverns in her infant days.

And now he was going forth with intent to kill Aasta's father, believing
that to be the only means by which Aasta's happiness and the welfare of
his people of Bute and Gigha could be secured. Aasta herself had tried
to slay this man; she had fought with him upon the ships at the siege of
Rothesay; she had engaged with him hand to hand in the battle of Largs.
She did not then know that Roderic was her own parent; but Roderic had
done nothing that could have power to change his daughter's hatred into
love, and even if she were now restored to him, would she ever forgive
him the injuries he had done?

Kenric turned this question over in his mind, wondering if Aasta would
blame him if it should be that he brought her father to his death
without first allowing her to speak with him, and for this reason he was
ill at ease. But Aasta was nowhere to be found, and Kenric well
understood what ills might follow if he missed this chance that Elspeth
Blackfell had afforded him of encountering his dread foe.

He was presently upon the shore of Ascog Mere, whose surface was now
frozen over with thick clear ice. The black frost of the past night and
day had taken into its firm grip the waters of every lake and torrent in
the island. Even the distant murmur of the waterfalls of Arran was
hushed into silence now, and all around was deathly still. The wind had
sunk into a whisper and the few fleecy white clouds up above glided like
ghosts