the
place deserted. With stately offence he asked him what he wanted
there, and waved his dismissal. Then first he saw another, standing
white-faced, with eyes fixed upon him. He turned pale also, and
stood staring at her. The memory of that moment ever after
disgraced him in his own eyes: for one instant of unreasoning
weakness, he imagined he saw a ghost--believed what he said he knew
to be impossible. It was but one moment but it might have been
more, had not Ginevra walked slowly up to him, saying in a trembling
voice, as if she expected the blame of all that had happened, "I
couldn't help it, papa." He took her in his arms, and, for the
first time since the discovery of her atrocious familiarity with
Donal, kissed her. She clung to him, trembling now with pleasure as
well as apprehension. But, alas! there was no impiety in the
faithlessness that pronounced such a joy too good to endure, and the
end came yet sooner than she feared. For, when the father rose
erect from her embrace, and was again the laird, there, to his
amazement, still stood the odd-looking, outlandish intruder, smiling
with the most impertinent interest! Gibbie had forgotten himself
altogether, beholding what he took for a thorough reconciliation.

"Go away, boy. You have nothing to do here," said the laird, anger
almost overwhelming his precious dignity.

"Oh, papa!" cried Ginevra, clasping her hands, "that's Gibbie! He
saved my life. I should have been drowned but for him."

The laird was both proud and stupid, therefore more than ordinarily
slow to understand what he was unprepared to hear.

"I am much obliged to him," he said haughtily; "but there is no
occasion for him to wait."

At this point his sluggish mind began to recall something:--why,
this was the very boy he saw in the meadow with her that
morning!--He turned fiercely upon him where he lingered, either
hoping for a word of adieu from Ginevra, or unwilling to go while
she was uncomfortable.

"Leave the house instantly," he said, "or I will knock you down."

"O papa!" moaned Ginevra wildly--it was the braver of her that she
was trembling from head to foot--"don't speak so to Gibbie. He is a
good boy. It was he that Angus whipped so cruelly--long ago: I have
never been able to forget it."

Her father was confounded at her presumption: how dared she
expostulate with him! She had grown a bold, bad girl! Good
heavens! Evil communications!

"If he does n