es the vision of the poet with the faith of the Christian may well
imagine to be their upward look of hope after a night of groaning and
travailing--the earnest gaze of the creature waiting for the
manifestation of the sons of God; and for himself, though the hardest
thing was yet to come, there was a satisfaction in finding himself
almost up to his last fence, with the heavy ploughed land through which
he had been floundering nearly all behind him; which figure means that
he had almost made up his mind what to do.

When he reached the Duff Arms he walked straight into the yard, where
the first thing he saw was a stable-boy in the air, hanging on to a
twitch on the nose of the rearing Kelpie. In another instant he would
have been killed or maimed for life, and Kelpie loose and scouring the
streets of Duff Harbor. When she heard Malcolm's voice and the sound of
his running feet she dropped as if to listen. He flung the boy aside and
caught her halter. Once or twice more she reared in the vain hope of so
ridding herself of the pain that clung to her lip and nose, nor did she,
through the mist of her anger and suffering, quite recognize her master
in his yacht-uniform. But the torture decreasing, she grew able to scent
his presence, welcomed him with her usual glad whinny, and allowed him
to to do with her as he would.

Having fed her, found Mr. Soutar and arranged several matters with him,
he set out for home.

That was a ride! Kelpie was mad with life. Every available field he
jumped her into, and she tore its element of space at least to shreds
with her spurning hoofs. But the distance was not great enough to quiet
her before they got to hard turnpike and young plantations. He would
have entered at the grand gate, but found no one at the lodge, for the
factor, to save a little, had dismissed the old keeper. He had therefore
to go on, and through the town, where, to the awe-stricken eyes of the
population peeping from doors and windows, it seemed as if the terrible
horse would carry him right over the roofs of the fisher-cottages below
and out to sea. "Eh, but he's a terrible cratur, that Ma'colm MacPhail!"
said the old wives to each other, and felt there must be something
wicked in him to ride like that.

But he turned her aside from the steep hill, and passed along the street
that led to the town-gate of the House. Whom should he see, as he turned
into it, but Mrs. Catanach, standing on her own doorstep, opposite th