little longer the pent-up waters
of her secret. Mr. Duff was a minister, and the intimate friend of
the family: she would say what she had seen and heard. Having then
first abjured all love of gossip, she told her tale, appealing to
the minister whether she had not been right in desiring to let Sir
Gilbert's uncle know how he was going on.

"I was not aware that Sir Gilbert was a cousin of yours, Miss
Galbraith," said Fergus.

Ginevra's face was rosy red, but it was now dusk, and the fire-light
had friendly retainer-shadows about it.

"He is not my cousin," she answered.

"Why, Ginevra! you told me he was your cousin," said Miss Kimble,
with keen moral reproach.

"I beg your pardon; I never did," said Ginevra.

"I must see your father instantly," cried Miss Kimble, rising in
anger. "He must be informed at once how much he is mistaken in the
young gentleman he permits to be on such friendly terms with his
daughter."

"My father does not know him," rejoined Ginevra; "and I should
prefer they were not brought together just at present."

Her words sounded strange even in her own ears, but she knew no way
but the straight one.

"You quite shock me, Ginevra!" said the school-mistress, resuming
her seat: "you cannot mean to say you cherish acquaintance with a
young man of whom your father knows nothing, and whom you dare not
introduce to him?"

To explain would have been to expose her father to blame.

"I have known Sir Gilbert from my childhood," she said.

"Is it possible your duplicity reaches so far?" cried Miss Kimble,
assured in her own mind that Ginevra had said he was her cousin.

Fergus thought it was time to interfere.

"I know something of the circumstances that led to the acquaintance
of Miss Galbraith with Sir Gilbert," he said, "and I am sure it
would only annoy her father to have any allusion made to it by
one--excuse me, Miss Kimble--who is comparatively a stranger. I beg
you will leave the matter to me."

Fergus regarded Gibbie as a half witted fellow, and had no fear of
him. He knew nothing of the commencement of his acquaintance with
Ginevra, but imagined it had come about through Donal; for,
studiously as Mr. Galbraith had avoided mention of his quarrel with
Ginevra because of the lads, something of it had crept out, and
reached the Mains; and in now venturing allusion to that old story,
Fergus was feeling after a nerve whose vibration, he thought, might
afford him some influ