"Hey, Jeamie, Jeamie Falcon," he called excitedly, "bide a minute till I get my bonnet and I'll gae wi' ye."

He found Falcon's cap lying on the floor, and, placing it on his head, he ran out calling with all his might. :

Jeanie was left alone, dazed and helpless in her anguish.

66

CHAPTER XXII.

THE BROWNIE'S BITE.

"O dismal night!' she said and wept,

'O night presaging sorrow,

O dismal night!' she said and wept,

'But more I dread to-morrow.'"-Sir G. Elliot.

SHE had no strength to stay him; but when the door closed she crouched on a chair, shivering and moaning, too weak to stand, too much stunned by the tortures of the last hour to be able to realize the import of the circumstances at once.

In that hour the agony of a long life seemed to have been concentrated; and her gentle nature had been distracted by the most afflicting of human passions-terror at the wild wrath of her husband-shame and indignation under his unjust reproaches-terror again at the danger to which he was exposing himself-anger with Falcon as the cause of all-and then remorse for the injustice she had done him.

She was overwhelmed and borne down to the earth, so that, for the first few minutes after she had been left alone, she was incapable of connected thought or action of any kind.

But presently she was quickened by a species of frenzy or desperation, and she started to her feet, drawing her plaid tightly around her. She felt as if she were going mad, and that action of some sort was necessary to save her.

"He was richt-Jeamie was richt for his ain sake and mine to gang awa at ance in spite o' tempest and darkness. And what am I biding here for? There's naebody to hinder me

noo, and its richt that I should gang awa' to my hame in spite o' tempest and darkness though I should dee on the way. Lord forgie me the thought, but I feel as though it would be a guid thing to dee the noo and get awa frae a' this weary Oh it's hard, hard to thole."

sorrow.

She crept to the door and opened it. A fierce gust of wind swept in upon her, the rain dashed in her face, and at the same time a vivid fork of lightning darted athwart the black sky, flashing in her eyes and blinding her so that she shrunk back as the thunder pealed along the hills.

But she was no stranger to the spectacle of the fury of the elements; so she drew her plaid the more tightly over her head and under her chin, and stepped carefully out from the house. Another flash of lightning dazzled her eyes again; and although it rendered everything around her for a second as clearly visible as in broad daylight, the darkness which ensued was more impenetrable than before, and she turned to the left instead of to the right in quitting the doorway.

She soon, however, discovered that she was walking on grass, and knew by that she had missed the road. Cautiously she endeavoured to find it again; but this was no easy task, for she had passed round the corner of the house, and having got to the back of it, there was no gleam of light to guide her.

She was regaining confidence as her eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, when suddenly she stood quite still, with quickening pulse.

Above the roar of the spate, as it rushed furiously down the glen, tearing trees and boulders of rock with it in its impetuous course-above the eerie wailing of the wind and the splashing of rain, she fancied she heard men's voices in angry discussion near her. Then rapid trampling of feet, as it might have been in a scuffle, and another swift glare of lightning revealed it all to her. She uttered a piercing scream.

She had discovered that she had wandered so far from the right course that she was within a few yards of the brink of the Brownie's Bite. That was not the cause of her scream.

She had seen, as one might see figures in a mist, two men on the very lip of the black abyss struggling madly.

Immediately, like the echo of her own cry, but wilder, shriller, and more terrible to hear, there rose a shriek of mortal agony, and she knew that one of the men had been hurled over the precipice into the foaming spate.

She stood transfixed; and there seemed to her to follow a moment of deathly silence. It was the feeling of one who has been standing beside a cannon when it explodes, and the ears are deafened to all other sounds.

Who were the men she had seen?.

A vague sickening dread oppressed her as the question involuntarily flashed through her mind. But she could not, dared not, think of the answer which suggested itself. She was abruptly roused from the species of stupor into which she had fallen by a man stumbling against her.

"Wha's that? What's ado here?" he said, griping her, and then suddenly releasing her with the exclamation-" You!"

She recognized the voice. The horrible answer to that question thrust itself upon her; she clasped her head with her hands, and then, utterly worn out and exhausted by the storm of emotion she had undergone, she sank to the ground insensible.

It was a happy unconsciousness to all suffering, to all the misery which encompassed her. When she recovered she would have been glad indeed to have sunk back into that blissful oblivion.

It was morning; the rain had ceased, but the wind was still high, and the fury of the spate was almost unabated. A pale watery mist hung over the hills; the grass lay heavy and glistening wet. Trees torn up by the roots, huge stones lying on the fields, and the barn beaten down to the earth, indicated the devastation of the previous night.

She was lying on the bed in the kitchen of Askaig house when sense returned. She was alone; and as soon as she recognized the place she closed her eyes again with a weary sob, praying with bitter fervency for the great physician Death to come and relieve her of her pain.

There was a singing in her ears as if her head had been under water. She felt sick and giddy, and so feeble that she did not seem to have strength enough to rise from the bed. Yet everything of the sad night's work was cruelly distinct in her memory.

One faint gleam of hope momentarily illumined the darkness of her mind was it possible that the terrible vision the lightning had revealed to her had been only a vision? Had she sunk under the agitation of Robin's accusations and the parting with him and Falcon, and had that most horrible episode of the past night been nothing more than the wild dream of a tortured and fevered imagination? It had been all so brief, so slight, that it was like a dream.

:

But his voice ?-that could not have been heard in a dream so clearly the sound was ringing in her ears now, and her pulse stood still with the terror it inspired-not on her own, but his account.

A heavy footstep on the earthen floor caused her to look round. Lang Rob Keith was approaching the bed, gazing at her. His dress was untidy, his short shaggy hair was shaggier than usual, and particles of straw were sticking on the woollen breast of his jacket and in his hair. He had in brief the drowsy appearance of one who has had no sleep during the night, and who had been resting on a heap of straw. More remarkable than this, however, was the expression of fright on his unwashed face.

The instant he observed that her eyes were open, he halted. "Hoo do ye find yoursel' noo, mistress ?" he queried in a subdued tone, as if he were afraid of his own voice.

"Better, thank ye" (faintly).

"Troth and I'm richt glad to hear't. Just ye lie still and I'll kendle a fire in a minute, and get ye some het brose. I'm no guid at making porridge, but I'm a prime hand at brose, and there's some fine new milk ye'll get to them, for I hae just been awa' milking the cow."

"Dinna heed for me

—I couldna take onything." "Deed but ye'll hae to take something," ejaculated Rob,

She had seen, as one might see figures in a mist, two men on the very lip of the black abyss struggling madly.

Immediately, like the echo of her own cry, but wilder, shriller, and more terrible to hear, there rose a shriek of mortal agony, and she knew that one of the men had been hurled over the precipice into the foaming spate.

She stood transfixed; and there seemed to her to follow a moment of deathly silence. It was the feeling of one who has been standing beside a cannon when it explodes, and the ears are deafened to all other sounds.

Who were the men she had seen?.

A vague sickening dread oppressed her as the question involuntarily flashed through her mind. But she could not, dared not, think of the answer which suggested itself. She was abruptly roused from the species of stupor into which she had fallen by a man stumbling against her.

"Wha's that? What's ado here?" he said, griping her, and then suddenly releasing her with the exclamation-"You!"

She recognized the voice. The horrible answer to that question thrust itself upon her; she clasped her head with her hands, and then, utterly worn out and exhausted by the storm of emotion she had undergone, she sank to the ground insensible.

It was a happy unconsciousness to all suffering, to all the misery which encompassed her. When she recovered she would have been glad indeed to have sunk back into that blissful oblivion.

It was morning; the rain had ceased, but the wind was still high, and the fury of the spate was almost unabated. A pale watery mist hung over the hills; the grass l glistening wet. Trees torn up by the roots, h on the fields, and the barn beaten down to th the devastation of the previous night.