imp and motionless; she let it go; it dropped
like a stick, and again she began to shriek. Angus laid his hand on
her shoulder. She turned on him, and opening her mouth wide,
screamed at him like a wild animal, with all the hatred of mingled
love and fear; then threw herself on the boy, and covered his body
with her own. Angus, stooping to remove her, saw Gibbie's face, and
became uncomfortable.

"He's deid! he's deid! Ye've killt him, Angus! Ye're an ill man!"
she cried fiercely. "I hate ye. I'll tell on ye. I'll tell my
papa."

"Hoot! whisht, missie!" said Angus. "It was by yer papa's ain orders
I gae him the whup, an' he weel deserved it forby. An' gien ye
dinna gang awa, an' be a guid yoong leddy, I'll gie 'im mair yet."

"I'll tell God," shrieked Ginevra with fresh energy of defensive
love and wrath.

Again he sought to remove her, but she clung so, with both legs and
arms, to the insensible Gibbie, that he could but lift both
together, and had to leave her alone.

"Gien ye daur to touch 'im again, Angus, I'll bite ye--bite ye--BITE
YE," she screamed, in a passage wildly crescendo.

The laird and Fergus had walked away together, perhaps neither of
them quite comfortable at the orders given, but the one too
self-sufficient to recall them, and the other too submissive to
interfere. They heard the cries, nevertheless, and had they known
them for Ginevra's, would have rushed to the spot; but fierce
emotion had so utterly changed her voice--and indeed she had never
in her life cried out before--that they took them for Gibbie's and
supposed the whip had had the desired effect and loosed his tongue.
As to the rest of the household, which would by this time have been
all gathered in the coach-house, the laird had taken his stand where
he could intercept them: he would not have the execution of the
decrees of justice interfered with.

But Ginevra's shrieks brought Gibbie to himself. Faintly he opened
his eyes, and stared, stupid with growing pain, at the tear-blurred
face beside him. In the confusion of his thoughts he fancied the
pain he felt was Ginevra's, not his, and sought to comfort her,
stroking her cheek with feeble hand, and putting up his mouth to
kiss her. But Angus, utterly scandalized at the proceeding, and
restored to energy by seeing that the boy was alive, caught her up
suddenly and carried her off--struggling, writhing, and scratching
like a cat. Indeed she bit his arm, and that