irst reach him. Against the grey dun of the sky he could separate their
figures, but he could not guess the identity of the General's companion.

In a second or two they moved nearer and he was an unwilling listener,
though a keenly interested one.

"Come, come," said the General, in a tone of some annoyance, "you had me
out to hear your explanation, and now I'm to be kept chittering in the
night air till you range your inside for words."

The other murmured something in a voice that did not intelligently reach
the planting.

"Ay, you did, did you?" said the General in reply, very dryly, and then
he paused. "I'll warrant you found a tartar," he said in a little.

The other answered softly in a word or two.

There was another pause, and then the General laughed, not with much
geniality. "That was all the news you brought me out here for?" said he.
"Come, come, the lady can look after herself so far as that goes. Either
that or she's not her mother's child. And yet--and yet, I would not
be saying. Edinburgh and all their low-country notions make some
difference; I see them in her. This is not the girl I sent off south
on a mail-gig--just like a parcel. Curse the practice that we must be
risking the things of our affection among strangers!"

There was no more than the brief and muffled answer, like that of a man
ashamed.

"I've seen that before," said the General stiffly. "It's not uncommon at
the age, but it's unusual to take the old gentleman into the garden at
night without his bonnet to tell him so little as that."

The answer, still muffled to the listener in the planting, poured forth
quickly.

"Highland," said the General, "queer Highlands! And it must be now or
never with us, must it? Well, young gentleman, you have nerve at least,"
and he quoted a Gaelic proverb. He put his hand on the shoulder of the
other and leaned to whisper. Gilian could make the action out against
the sky. Then "Good-night" and the father's footsteps went back to the
door and the unknown proceeded down the glen.

On an impulse irresistible, Gilian followed at a discreet distance,
keeping on the verges of the grass beside the road, so that his
footsteps might not betray him. All the night was tenantless but for
themselves and some birds that called dolefully in the woods. The river,
broadened by the burns on either hand that joined it, grew soon to a
rapid and tumultuous current washing round the rushy bends, and the Dhu
Loch whe