The consternation was inexpressible. The people, supposing her drowned, took her for a ghost, though there was no ghostly calm about her; but her eyes were swollen, her hair disordered, her lips quivering with violent emotion. There was a solemnity about her, too; for extreme anguish is always solemn, in proportion as it approaches to despair.

She rushed to the front of the pulpit, and held out her hands, exclaiming aloud to Mr Ruthven that she was the most persecuted and tormented of human beings; that she appealed to him against her persecutors; and if he did not see her righted, she warned him that he would be d.a.m.ned deeper than h.e.l.l. Mrs Ruthven shuddered, and left her seat to place herself by her husband. And now she encountered the poor lady's gaze, and, moreover, had her own grasped as it had never been before.

"Are these children yours?" she was asked.

"Yes," faltered Mrs Ruthven.

"Then you must help me to recover mine. Had you ever,"--and here she turned to the pastor--"had you ever an enemy?" Her voice turned hoa.r.s.e as she uttered the word.

"No--yes--Oh, yes!" said he. "I have had enemies, as every man has."

"Then, as you wish them abased and tormented, you must help me to abase and torment mine--my husband, and Lord Lovat--"

"Lord Lovat!" repeated many wondering voices.

"And Sir Alexander Macdonald; and his tenant of this place; and--"

As Mr Ruthven looked round him, perplexed and amazed, one of Macdonald's people went up to him, and whispered into his ear that this lady had come from some place above or below, for she was drowned last week. Mr Ruthven half smiled.

"I will know," cried the lady, "what that fellow said. I will hear what my enemies tell you against me. My only hope is in you. I am stolen from Edinburgh; they pretended to bury me there--Eh? what?" she cried, as another man whispered something into the pastor's other ear. "Mad!

There! I heard it. I heard him say I was mad. Did he not tell you I was mad?"

"He did; and one cannot--really I cannot--"

As he looked round again in his perplexity, the widow rose from her seat, and said, "I know this lady; my son and I know her better than anyone else in the island does; and we should say that she is not mad."

"_Not_ mad!" Mr Ruthven said, with a mingling of surprise in his tone which did not escape the jealous ear of Lady Ca.r.s.e.

"Not mad, sir; but grievously oppressed. If you could quietly hear the story, sir, at a fitting time--"

"Ay, ay; that will be best," declared Mr Ruthven.

"Let me go home with you," said Lady Ca.r.s.e. "I will go home with you; and--"

Mrs Ruthven exchanged a glance with her husband, and then said, in an embarra.s.sed way, while giving a hand to each of the two children who were clinging to her, that their house was very small, extremely small indeed, with too little room for the children, and none whatever left over.

"It is my house," exclaimed Lady Ca.r.s.e, impatiently. "It was built with a view to you; but it was done under my orders, and I have a claim upon it. And what ails the children?" she cried, in a tone which made the younger cry aloud. "What are they afraid of?"

"I don't know, I am sure," said their mother, helping them, however, to hide their faces in her gown. "But--"

Again Annie rose and said, "There could be no difficulty about a place for the lady if she would be pleased to do as she did before--live in her cottage. The two dwellings might almost be called one, and if the lady would go home with her--"

Grat.i.tude was showered on Annie from all the parties. As the lady moved slowly towards the widow's house, holding Annie's arm, and weeping as she went, and followed by the Ruthvens, the eyes of all the Macdonalds gazed after her, in a sort of doubt whether she were a witch, or a ghost, or really and truly a woman.

As soon as Macdonald's sloop could be discerned on its approach the next day, Mr Ruthven went down, and paced the sh.o.r.e while daylight lasted, though a.s.sured that the vessel would not come up till night. As soon as a signal could be made in the morning for the yawl, he pa.s.sed to the sloop, where he had a conference with Macdonald, the consequence of which was, that as soon as he was set ash.o.r.e the sloop again stood out to sea.

Mrs Ruthven and Lady Ca.r.s.e saw this, as they stood hand in hand at the door of the new dwelling. They kissed each other at the sight. They had already kissed each other very often, for they called themselves dear and intimate friends who had now one great common object in life-- to avenge Lady Ca.r.s.e's wrongs.

"Well, what news?" they both cried, as Mr Ruthven came towards them, panting from the haste with which he had ascended.

"The tenant is gone back," said he, "he has returned to Sir Alexander to contradict his last news--of your being drowned. By-the-way, I promised to contradict it, too--to the man who is watching for the body every tide."

"Oh, he must have heard the facts from some of the people at the chapel."

"If he had he would not believe them, Macdonald says, on any other authority than his. Nor will he leave his post till he finds the body, or--"

"Or sees me," cried Lady Ca.r.s.e, laughing. "Come, let us go and call to him, and tell him he may leave off poking among the weeds. Come; I will show you the way."

And she ran on with the spirits and pace of a girl. Mr and Mrs Ruthven looked at each other with smiles, and Mrs Ruthven exclaimed, "What a charming creature this was, and how shocking it was to think of her cruel fate." Mr Ruthven shook his head and declared that he regarded the conduct of her persecutors with grave moral disapprobation.

Meantime Lady Ca.r.s.e looked back, beckoned to them with her hand, and stamped with her foot, because they were stopping to talk.

"What a simple creature she is! So childlike!" exclaimed Mrs Ruthven.

"We must quicken our pace, my dear," replied her husband. "It would not be right to detain the lady when she wishes to proceed."

But now Lady Ca.r.s.e was beckoning to somebody else--to little Kate Ruthven, who, with her brother Adam, was peeping from the door of their new home.

"Come, Katie," said her mother, "don't you see that Lady Ca.r.s.e calls you? Bring Adam, and go with us."

Kate turned very red, but did not come. Lady Ca.r.s.e came laughing back to fetch them; but they bolted into the house, and, when still pursued, scrambled under a bed. When caught, they screamed.

"Well, to be sure," cried their mother; "what behaviour when a lady asks you to go with her! I declare I am quite ashamed."

Papa now came up, and said--

"My dears, I do not approve such behaviour as this."

Kate began to sob, and Adam followed her example.

"There, now, do not cry," said papa; "I cannot permit you to cry. You may go with Lady Ca.r.s.e. Lady Ca.r.s.e is so kind as to wish you to go with her. You will like to go with the lady. Why do you not reply, my dears. You must reply when spoken to. You will like to go with the lady--eh?"

"No," murmured Kate.

"No," whispered Adam.

"I am astonished," papa declared. "I never saw them conduct themselves in this manner before. Did you, my dear?"

"No; but it is an accident, I dare say. Something has put them out."

"I must ascertain the cause, however," papa declared. "Such an incident must not pa.s.s uncorrected. Listen to me, my dears, and answer me when I ask you a question. Look at this lady."

Kate slowly lifted her eyes, and Adam then did the same. They seemed on the verge of another scream; and this was not extraordinary; for Lady Ca.r.s.e was not laughing now, but very far from it. There was something in her face that made the children catch at mamma's gown.

"Listen to me, my dears," papa went on; "and reply when I ask you a question. This good lady is going to live with us--"

A deeper plunge into the folds of mamma's gown.

"And from this time forwards you must love this lady. You love this lady now, my dears, don't you?"

After as long a pause as they dared make, the children said, "No."