66

'I'll be glad o' your company, and syne ye'll hae plenty o' time to tell me a' about your guidman's difficulty, and

"But I want ye no to licht the lamp, an' no to speir at me my reason for asking this till the morn.'

"I'll no speir a single question, though I would like to ken what yé expect. Ye surely dinna think Carrach's in the house yet?" she said, breaking her promise in the same breath which gave it.

66 I couldna say, but I can tell ye this, that the Laird's no willing to let us ken where he is."

"Is he no? Then we'll find out in spite o' him,” exclaimed the housekeeper, brightening at the idea of being able to do anything to spite her master.

"" Can ye find out if the Laird has come hame yet ?"

“That can I, and will in a minute.”

She quitted the room, returning presently with the intelligence that the Laird had been at home for the last hour. Jeanie thereupon moved her seat to the door, taking a position from which she could command the whole of the lobby when the door was slightly ajar. Her movements were very resolute, although very quiet; and excited the curiosity of Mrs. Begg so much that she kept up a constant fire of gossip, cunningly interlarded with inquiries which, if answered, would have enlightened her as to Jeanie's purpose. But whenever she made any glaring breach in her promise, she goodnaturedly checked herself, and confessed that she could not help letting slip a word now and again, for she was really unco concerned to ken what ye jalouse, and maybe I could help ye mair nor ye think."

In spite of that inducement Jeanie was guarded in her answers, for although she would have trusted anything to Mrs. Begg's kindly intents, she could not trust her tongue.

She was relieved for about an hour, during which the housekeeper was away seeing to the disposition of affairs for the night. When Mrs. Begg came back, Jeanie was in exactly the same posture by the door, listening and watching the lobby.

The servants had all retired to rest, and the house became quiet. Mrs. Begg still talked, but in whispers now, as if the quietude around her impressed her with more caution. She opened the door of her bed, and asked her guest if she were going to lie down.

"No yet, if you please."

"Ye dinna mean that you're to sit up a' night?"

"I do."

"And what guid will that do ye?" (her tone rising). Jeanie was by her side in a moment.

"I maun tell ye what I'm waiting for, Mistress Begg. I believe that Carrach may come here the night again, and I want to make sure o't. That's the long and short o' the matter."

"Ye might hae told me that afore, and I'm sure I wouldna hae interfered. But I'll no gang to bed either, since that's the way o't. I'll just sit up and keep ye company."

And yawning she seated herself on the side of the bed, whilst Jeanie resumed her place by the door. Mrs. Begg kept awake for some time after her usual hour of going to bed, and would probably have kept awake all night if she had been at liberty to speak. But Jeanie had begged her to keep silence lest the Laird should overhear her-a very probable event in the stillness which prevailed—and her desire to spite him was sufficiently strong to obtain her submission even to that troublesome condition.

The result, however, was that she yawned a great deal, had to check herself often in the act of breaking the rule, and at last, resting her head on the pillow, fell asleep, snoring loudly.

Jeanie calculated that it must be past midnight. It was certainly more than an hour since Mrs. Begg had gone to sleep, when her pulse quickened as she fancied she heard a slight creaking sound as of the handle of a door being cautiously turned.

She bent forward with greedy ears and eyes.

The sound had ceased, and there was a long pause, during which she heard nothing but the rushing of the wind outside

and the snoring of her companion. Then there was a thin stream of light across the dark lobby, and she knew that the door of the Laird's room was stealthily opened,

He stepped out, his hat and plaid on, his thick staff and a small bundle in his left hand, whilst with the right he closed the door. He locked it, for she heard the click of the bolt as it shot into the socket. The lobby was dark again, but she could hear him creeping across it to the front door. He opened it in the same stealthy way as he had opened the other, and stepped out, carefully closing it after him.

She started to her feet, and with swift noiseless steps gained the door. In another moment she was outside.

It was a clear frosty night. There was no moon, but there was light enough for her to distinguish objects at about ten yards' distance. She did not see him at first, as he was passing under the shadow of some trees, but she heard his footsteps crunching the gravel, and that warned her to be careful of her own steps. She sat down on the doorstep, and, panting, removed her shoes. She did not think of the frost or the sharp stones which might cut her feet. Her heart was palpitating wildly with the hope that she was on the track which was to lead her to the proof of her husband's innocence; palpitating too with the fear lest any false step should betray her before she had made the discovery for which she was prepared to brave any danger.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

ON THE SHORE.

"Her look, ance gay as gleams o' gowd
Upon a silvery sea,

Now dark and dowie as the cloud

That creeps athwart yon leafless wood

In cauld December's e'e."-W. Thom.

CARRYING her shoes in her hand, she stepped lightly after him, her eyes noting his every movement, so that if he should

chance to look round she could drop flat on the earth and escape any casual glance. But whether it was because he was too confident of his security from observation at that hour, or his hurry to reach his destination was too great, he did not pause or turn his head.

He was proceeding at the greatest speed his lameness permitted. He suddenly turned off the road, passed through a gap in the hedge, and proceeded across the fields. He was

moving straight for the shore, which was little more than half a mile distant from the house in a straight line, although it was much further by the road.

Jeanie divined at once where he was going to when he struck into the fields; and she was satisfied that he was either to meet Carrach or to erect some pre-arranged signal of danger.

She heard the loud swishing sound of the sea as the waves tossed on the beach, and receded, leaving a white track of foam. Then she could see the waters glistening in the dim light, and far out the waves rushing at one another, rising and breaking in dark mysterious forms. Then the Laird's figure became plain to her as he halted on the road which passed along the shore about fifty yards above high-water mark, and which was called the low road.

There, for the first time, he looked about him; she dropped down on her knees and crouched to the earth, watching him still and holding her breath. He delayed so long that she began to fear he had seen her; but at last he moved on across the road and down to the pebbly beach.

Between the road and the beach there was a long track of green hillocks like a range of miniature hills and glens, which was called the Links. The innumerable hollows promised her greater security from detection than any part of the way hither had done, and she advanced boldly.

She had lost sight of the Laird since he had crossed the Links, and she was obliged to select her path carefully so as to move amongst the hollows, lest in crossing any of the mounds he should chance to see her.

She came suddenly upon the beach, and saw the man standing with his face seaward, but scarcely more than six feet from her, and she shrank back trembling. The slightest slip of her foot would have made him aware of her presence.

She peered round to find some place from which she might watch him without having to expose her head, and a solitary. whin bush growing near the top of the hillock offered her the mask she required. Creeping up behind it on her hands and knees, she parted the stems and looked through the opening.

The Laird uncovered the small bundle he had carried in his left hand: a blaze of light flashed in her eyes and revealed to her that it had been a lantern he had brought to the place covered by a thick cloth that it might not attract the attention of any stray gauger or coast-guardsman-the only persons likely to be abroad at that hour.

He slowly raised the lantern from the ground to his arm's length above his head and lowered it thrice. That done, he hastily re-covered the light, glanced cautiously up and down along the beach and then looked out to sea.

Far across the water Jeanie observed a speck of light rise and fall thrice, as if in answer to the signal.

The Laird drew back to the hillock and seated himself just beneath the watcher's head. She fancied that he was so near that by reaching out her arm she might have touched him. She fancied that, in spite of the rush of wind and the splash of the waves, she could hear him breathe, and she almost stifled herself in her efforts to repress her own breath lest he should hear it, whilst for the same reason she was afraid to move from her unpleasant proximity to him.

She knew that an answer to the signal had been given from Carrach's brig, and she knew that Carrach was coming to him.

She was not insensible to the peril of her position in the event of detection. Alone on that solitary beach with two men rendered desperate by terror of the consequences of the discovery of their guilt, what might they not do, what mad crime might they not dare to commit, to secure themselves?