n; while
it added to Donal's unrest, and swelled his evil mood, to see Mr.
Galbraith absorbed. For Ginevra's bonnet, it did not once move--but
then it was not set at an angle to indicate either eyes upturned in
listening, or cast down in emotion. Donal would have sacrificed not
a few songs, the only wealth he possessed, for one peep round the
corner of that bonnet. He had become painfully aware, that, much as
he had seen of Ginevra, he knew scarcely anything of her thoughts;
he had always talked so much more to her than she to him, that now,
when he longed to know, he could not even guess what she might be
thinking, or what effect such "an arrangement" of red and yellow
would have upon her imagination and judgment. She could not think
or receive what was not true, he felt sure, but she might easily
enough attribute truth where it did not exist.

At length the rockets, Roman candles, and squibs were all burnt out,
the would-be "eternal blazon" was over, and the preacher sunk back
exhausted in his seat. The people sang; a prayer, fit pendent to
such a sermon, followed, and the congregation was dismissed--it
could not be with much additional strength to meet the sorrows,
temptations, sophisms, commonplaces, disappointments, dulnesses,
stupidities, and general devilries of the week, although not a few
paid the preacher welcome compliments on his "gran' discoorse."

The young men were out among the first, and going round to another
door, in the church-yard, by which they judged Ginevra and her
father must issue, there stood waiting. The night was utterly
changed. The wind had gone about, and the vapours were high in
heaven, broken all into cloud-masses of sombre grandeur. Now from
behind, now upon their sides, they were made glorious by the full
moon, while through their rents appeared the sky and the ever
marvellous stars. Gibbie's eyes went climbing up the spire that
shot skyward over their heads. Around its point the clouds and the
moon seemed to gather, grouping themselves in grand carelessness;
and he thought of the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven; to
us mere heaps of watery vapour, ever ready to fall, drowning the
earth in rain, or burying it in snow, to angel-feet they might be
solid masses whereon to tread attendant upon him, who, although with
his word he ruled winds and seas, loved to be waited on by the
multitude of his own! He was yet gazing, forgetful of the human
tide about him, watching