ure of such health as suffices to its
own warmth, not a mark of the midnight student about him, and
looking very different, in town-made clothes, from the Donal of the
mirror. He approached and saluted her with such an air of homely
grace as one might imagine that of the Red Cross Knight, when,
having just put on the armour of a Christian man, from a clownish
fellow he straightway appeared the goodliest knight in the company.
Away they walked together westward, then turned southward. Mrs.
Sclater and Gibbie led, and Ginevra followed with Donal. And they
had not walked far, before something of the delight of old times on
Glashruach began to revive in the bosom of the too sober girl. In
vain she reminded herself that her father sat miserable at home,
thinking of her probably as the most heartless of girls; the sun,
and the bright air like wine in her veins, were too much for her,
Donal had soon made her cheerful, and now and then she answered his
talk with even a little flash of merriment. They crossed the
bridge, high-hung over the Daur, by which on that black morning
Gibbie fled; and here for the first time, with his three friends
about him, he told on his fingers the dire deed of the night, and
heard from Mrs. Sclater that the murderers had been hanged. Ginevra
grew white and faint as she read his fingers and gestures, but it
was more at the thought of what the child had come through, than
from the horror of his narrative. They then turned eastward to the
sea, and came to the top of the rock-border of the coast, with its
cliffs rent into gullies, eerie places to look down into, ending in
caverns into which the waves rushed with bellow and boom. Although
so nigh the city, this was always a solitary place, yet, rounding a
rock, they came upon a young man, who hurried a book into his
pocket, and would have gone by the other side, but perceiving
himself recognized, came to meet them, and saluted Mrs. Sclater, who
presented him to Ginevra as the Rev. Mr. Duff.

"I have not had the pleasure of seeing you since you were quite a
little girl, Miss Galbraith," said Fergus.

Ginevra said coldly she did not remember him. The youths greeted
him in careless student fashion: they had met now and then for a
moment about the college; and a little meaningless talk followed.

He was to preach the next day--and for several Sundays following--at
a certain large church in the city, at the time without a minister;
and when the