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"He didna say onything mair ?" "No a word."

"He didna mention Jeames Falcon ?"

"Na; there was naething to bring the puir chield up atween us."

Robin moved away whistling. Evidently Adam knew nothing of the reported return of Falcon; and surely he would have known of it if the lad had been at Cairnieford. Clearly the Laird had been mistaken in that part of his information, or, what was quite probable, had told a lie for the purpose of annoying him.

Was it not possible that the whole story was a lie, and that Falcon had not returned at all? It was possible; but then the Laird had never been caught in such a direct falsehood before; and certainly there was something queer in Jeanie's expression.

He watched her-not because he doubted her in the leastbut because he loved her, and every change of look or manner was of interest to him, that he might know the cause, and if possible remove it.

He discovered nothing, however, save that she seemed even more anxious than before, if that were possible, to serve him and please him; and that at odd moments she would be abstracted with a shade on her face as of some troublesome thought. If he spoke to her at these moments she would start and eagerly attend to him as if desirous of removing any impression her manner might have made, and to avoid questioning. But she never made the least reference to Falcon.

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CHAPTER XVIII.

PLAYING WITH FIRE.

"On peace and rest my mind was bent,

And, fool I was, I married."-Old Song.

THINKING and thinking over all these circumstances, Robin became curious to know whether or not there was any truth in the Laird's information; and two days afterwards, when he happened to meet Girzie Todd on her road to the house, he questioned her.

Girzie seemed to be a little taken aback; at any rate she was slow to answer, and that was a rare occurrence with her. This was the reason. She had come to prepare Jeanie for the surprise of Falcon's return, but she had been an hour too late. She had, however, readily agreed to say nothing about the matter to Robin in the event of meeting him. Consequently, she was at a loss now to know how much she might reveal without betraying the arrangement she had made with Jeanie. "Wha tauld ye o't?" she asked, instead of answering him. "Clashgirn."

"Aye, it's true" (she understood now).

"Hae ye seen the lad?" said Robin, somewhat uncharitably disappointed to discover that the Laird had spoken truly.

"I saw him the nicht he came back."

"I wonder he doesna come our length. I'm sure we'd be glad to see him."

"Aye, Cairnieford, sae ye micht be, for it's easy to him that wins to forgi'e, but it's no sae easy to him that loses."

"True eneuch, Girzie. But I think if I was to hae a quiet chat wi' him he micht be persuaded to bear nae ill-will onyway. Do ye ken whar he is?"

"He is someway about, but I couldna exactly say whar he may be the noo."

She had no very definite reason for giving this evasive answer. She knew very well that he was at Askaig, for Wattie, who

had taken a special fancy to Falcon since he had told him about the big ship and the guns, had almost for the first time in his life mustered courage to quit his mother, and had trudged over the hills alone to Askaig every day to gratify his curiosity by listening to Falcon's stories of the wonders he had seen. He was there now, for Falcon, solitary and miserable, was glad even of the poor natural's company and friendship, especially as Wattie's affection for Jeanie made him ready to speak of her often, and to tell all he knew of what had passed before and since her marriage.

It was a sort of consolation to the unhappy man to hear again and again of the circumstances which had placed an impassable barrier between him and the woman he loved. He persuaded himself that the more he heard of them, the more clearly the fact of the inevitable separation was presented to him, and that he was thereby schooling himself to think calmly of the irrevocable.

Girzie had been at first doubtful about permitting Wattie to venture so far from her alone; but as she had seen that his pride in his own achievement was rapidly giving him a selfconfidence he had never before possessed, she was well pleased to let him go, for she knew that some day-far distant she hoped for his sake-he would have to stand alone.

She was enabled to form a pretty correct notion of Falcon's condition from the gossip of her son, and in evading Robin's question the only idea she had was that a visit from him would not be favourably received by Falcon in his present humour, and that she would not be the means of stirring up more strife to add to Jeanie's distress.

"Better let sleeping dogs lie," she said as she moved on to the house.

There she obtained an opportunity of whispering to Jeanie that the guidman was aware of Falcon's return. The information rendered her nervous and excited. Robin noticed that and marvelled, whilst his doubts and fears sprung up again with new strength.

She watched him closely, expecting him to speak, and

perceived that he was observing her strangely. That increased her excitability, and in proportion his uneasiness grew. But neither touched upon the matter that was uppermost in their thoughts, each fearing to pain the other. The result was a general feeling of discomfort without any very distinct or palpable cause that might have been seized and grappled with.

The following day was Sabbath-cold, bleak, and windy, the ground carpeted with frost-crusted snow. The sense of depression was still upon them as they proceeded to the kirk, and filled them with vague forebodings of something about to happen.

During the sermon Robin saw the Laird glancing frequently toward him with curious eyes. As they rose at the end of the service the Laird made a movement with his hand; it was very slight, but Robin thought that it was intended as a signal that he wanted to speak to him.

Little as he cared for McWhapple's conversation at ordinary times, he was eager to learn where Falcon was and what he was doing; and so was quite ready to wait for the Laird. Out in the kirkyard as usual he lingered exchanging greetings with his neighbours, whilst Jeanie walked on with old Mrs. Dunbar.

The Laird joined him immediately, and taking him by the arm mysteriously led him apart from the others.

"The guidwife's no looking vera weel?" he said compassionately, glancing over his shoulder at her standing by the gate with Mrs. Dunbar.

"No, she hasna been a'thegither richt this twa or three days; but it's naething particular, just a bit cauld."

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Aye, aye, just that; this twa or three days; ye mean since Tuesday?"

Robin quietly released his arm from the Laird's grasp and looked him steadily in the face.

"Since Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, it doesna matter which o' the days it was," he said calmly. "I'm no sae particular about thae things as ye are, McWhapple, because I canna see that it does a man ony guid—or a woman either for

that matter-to be ay looking for a storm in the face o' the sun."

"Just that, just that, I agree wi' ye; but he's a gowk that would put to sea in a punt when the clouds are darkening ower the sun."

"Maybe sae; but ye wanted to say something. Say it and let me awa'."

"Oh, I was merely gaun to mention that my puir frien' Falcon doesna seem just richt in the head since he saw your guidwife. I wanted him to gang awa' at once, but he's lingering about the place in spite o' my advice, for what end Heaven kens."

"Whar is he biding?

No wi' you?" (controlling voice and features as well as he could that they might not show any of the emotion he felt).

"No, he wouldna bide wi' me; I wish he had, for then I maybe would hae had some command over him. But he would gang awa' whar there would be naebody to see him, or jalouse what he micht be about."

"Whar is he?" (doggedly).

"Up by at Askaig-ye ken he had ay a notion o' the place. I hae been up to see him twa or three times, but I can mak’ naething o' him.”

"I'll gang ower the morn and see what I can make o' him" (drily, and turning away).

"You" (detaining him); "michty! no, ye maunna do that. Guid kens what would happen atween ye, for, puir lad, I'm feared his head's a wee thing touched."

And the Laird took a snuff, with violent nasal accompaniment expressive of grief.

"A' the mair reason that I should see him, and try to mend the wrang he thinks I hae done him.”

"Mercy on us, man! ye'll just drive him wud a'thegither." The Laird seemed to be really agitated for once in his life. "We'll see."

"Ye maunna gang near him "—(following him).
"I'll be wi' him the first thing the morn's morning."

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