ot get out of this directly," he cried, "I will have
him whipped again. Angus."

He shouted the name, and its echo came back in a wild tone,
altogether strange to Ginevra. She seemed struggling in the meshes
of an evil dream. Involuntarily she uttered a cry of terror and
distress. Gibbie was at her side instantly, putting out his hand to
comfort her. She was just laying hers on his arm, scarcely knowing
what she did, when her father seized him, and dashed him to the
other side of the room. He went staggering backwards, vainly trying
to recover himself, and fell, his head striking against the wall.
The same instant Angus entered, saw nothing of Gibbie where he lay,
and approached his master. But when he caught sight of Ginevra, he
gave a gasp of terror that ended in a broken yell, and stared as if
he had come suddenly on the verge of the bottomless pit, while all
round his head his hair stood out as if he had been electrified.
Before he came to himself, Gibbie had recovered and risen. He saw
now that he could be of no service to Ginevra, and that his presence
only made things worse for her. But he saw also that she was
unhappy about him, and that must not be. He broke into such a merry
laugh--and it had need to be merry, for it had to do the work of
many words of reassurance--that she could scarcely refrain from a
half-hysterical response as he walked from the room. The moment he
was out of the house, he began to sing; and for many minutes, as he
walked up the gulf hollowed by the Glashburn, Ginevra could hear the
strange, other-world voice, and knew it was meant to hold communion
with her and comfort her.

"What do you know of that fellow, Angus!" asked his master.

"He's the verra deevil himsel', sir," muttered Angus, whom Gibbie's
laughter had in a measure brought to his senses.

"You will see that he is sent off the property at once--and for
good, Angus," said the laird. "His insolence is insufferable. The
scoundrel!"

On the pretext of following Gibbie, Angus was only too glad to leave
the room. Then Mr. Galbraith upon his daughter.

"So, Jenny!" he said, with, his loose lips pulled out straight,
"that is the sort of companion you choose when left to yourself!--a
low, beggarly, insolent scamp!--scarcely the equal of the brutes he
has the charge of!"

"They're sheep, papa!" pleaded Ginevra, in a wail that rose almost
to a scream.

"I do believe the girl is an idiot!" said her father, and