o her eyes. Kennedy followed her.

"Gien the yoong lord hae wranged ye ony gait," he said from behind her,
"an' gien there be ony amen's ye wad hae o' him,--"

She turned with a quickness that was fierce, and in the dim light
Kennedy saw her eyes blazing.

"I want naething frae your han', Stephen Kennedy," she said. "My lord's
naething to you--nor yet muckle to me!" she added, with sudden reaction
and an outburst of self-pity, and again fell a weeping--and sobbing now.

With the timidity of a strong man before the girl he loves and
therefore fears, Kennedy once more tried to comfort her, wiping her
eyes with her apron. While he did so, a man, turning a corner quickly,
came almost upon them. He started back, then came nearer, looked hard
at them, and spoke. It was lord Forgue.

"Eppy!" he exclaimed, in a tone in which indignation blended with
surprise.

Eppy gave a cry, and ran to him. He pushed her away.

"My lord," said Kennedy, "the lass will nane o' me or mine. I sair
doobt there's nane but yersel' can please her. But I sweir by God, my
lord, gien ye du her ony wrang, I'll no rest, nicht nor day, till I hae
made ye repent it."

"Go to the devil!" said Forgue; "there's an old crow, I suspect, yet to
pluck between us! For me you may take her, though. I don't go halves."

Eppy laid her hand timidly on his arm, but again he pushed her away.

"Oh, my lord!" she sobbed, and could say no more for weeping.

"How is it I find you here with this man?" he asked. "I don't want to
be unfair to you, but it looks rather bad!"

"My lord," said Kennedy.

"Hold your tongue; let her speak for herself."

"I had no tryst wi' him, my lord! I never said come nigh me," sobbed
Eppy. "--Ye see what ye hae dune!" she cried, turning in anger on
Kennedy, and her tears suddenly ceasing. "Never but ill hae ye brocht
me! What business had ye to come efter me this gait, makin' mischief
'atween my lord an' me? Can a body no set fut ayont the door-sill, but
they maun be followt o' them they wud see far eneuch!"

Kennedy turned and went, and Eppy with a fresh burst of tears turned to
go also. But she had satisfied Forgue that there was nothing between
them, and he was soon more successful than Kennedy in consoling her.

While absent he had been able enough to get on without her, but no
sooner was he home than, in the weary lack of interest, the feelings
which, half lamenting, half rejoicing, he had imagined extinct, began
to revive,