tall cloaked figure appear from behind the shelter of a dark rock.

Roderic came slowly towards him, blowing his warm breath into his cold,
crisped fists. Kenric's face was in shadow, and the outlaw did not
recognize him.

"So," said Roderic, "Elspeth Blackfell has not this time deceived me,
eh? 'Twas she who sent you here, young man?"

"It was," Kenric replied.

"And how happens it that she sent not the maid Aasta?"

"'Twas beyond her power, Earl Roderic," answered Kenric in a quivering
voice.

"What?" cried Roderic surlily, "beyond her power? Tell me no lies. The
old crone is but playing some witch's trick upon me. Where is my
daughter, I say? where is my child?"

"Aasta the Fair, Heaven rest her soul! now sleeps beneath the cold ice
of Ascog Loch," said Kenric solemnly; "she is dead."

A sudden hoarse cry from Roderic followed these words.

"Dead?" he echoed, "dead, you say, and under the ice of the loch?"

"Even so," replied the youth, keeping his eye fixed upon Roderic's
movements. "'Tis but a little time since that I saw her lying in the
frozen waters."

Roderic staggered back a pace, wildly. He tugged at the neck of his
cloak as though it were stifling him.

"Ah, God forgive me!" he wailed. "Alas, 'twas she -- 'twas then my own
child who so wildly attacked me yesternight! 'Twas my own Aasta who so
boldly fought against me at Largs. 'Twas she whom I took captive in my
ship from Rothesay. And 'twas she also who cursed me over at Barone --
ay, cursed her own father! Great God, the curse has come true! For my
own two children have been slain before my eyes -- first Lulach, then
herself -- and I their father slew them both!"

"What means this?" cried Kenric, growing pale in the moonlight and
grasping his sword. "You slew Aasta? you? Oh, villain!"

"Ah, that voice! methinks I know it," said Roderic, starting in surprise
and turning upon Kenric. "So then 'tis you, young Kenric, that is Dame
Elspeth's messenger? Much do I thank her for so promptly helping me. By
St. Olaf, but this is most fortunate. Ha! no need have you to draw your
sword. It will serve you no purpose now. As well might you seek to move
Goatfell as think of holding your own against Roderic MacAlpin."

But Kenric, learning thus how Aasta had come by her terrible fate, felt
his craving for battle grow stronger. He spoke no word, but stood with
his naked weapon ready in his hands.

Roderic threw off his heavy cloak and drew his sword. The