ne Galbraith and the cursed entry in the day-book closed
his mouth.

Hours passed; the class began to arrive; the members of the unhappy Gray
were dealt out to one and to another, and received without remark.
Richardson was made happy with the head; and before the hour of freedom
rang Fettes trembled with exultation to perceive how far they had
already gone toward safety.

For two days he continued to watch, with increasing joy, the dreadful
process of disguise.

On the third day Macfarlane made his appearance. He had been ill, he
said; but he made up for lost time by the energy with which he directed
the students. To Richardson in particular he extended the most valuable
assistance and advice, and that student, encouraged by the praise of the
demonstrator, burned high with ambitious hopes, and saw the medal
already in his grasp.

Before the week was out Macfarlane's prophecy had been fulfilled. Fettes
had outlived his terrors and had forgotten his baseness. He began to
plume himself upon his courage, and had so arranged the story in his
mind that he could look back on these events with an unhealthy pride. Of
his accomplice he saw but little. They met, of course, in the business
of the class; they received their orders together from Mr. K----. At
times they had a word or two in private, and Macfarlane was from first
to last particularly kind and jovial. But it was plain that he avoided
any reference to their common secret; and even when Fettes whispered to
him that he had cast in his lot with the lions and forsworn the lambs,
he only signed to him smilingly to hold his peace.

At length an occasion arose which threw the pair once more into a closer
union. Mr. K---- was again short of subjects; pupils were eager, and it
was a part of this teacher's pretensions to be always well supplied. At
the same time there came the news of a burial in the rustic graveyard of
Glencorse. Time has little changed the place in question. It stood then,
as now, upon a cross road, out of call of human habitations, and buried
fathom deep in the foliage of six cedar trees. The cries of the sheep
upon the neighbouring hills, the streamlets upon either hand, one loudly
singing among pebbles, the other dripping furtively from pond to pond,
the stir of the wind in mountainous old flowering chestnuts, and once in
seven days the voice of the bell and the old tunes of the precentor,
were the only sounds that disturbed the silence around the rura