that design, not accident, had caused such desertion.  He could almost have started in his solicitude, to seek the missing man, such was the rebound of his mind.  Yet to all this he only gave vagrant thoughts, such as we give to our fellows in church.  The temple of the night had become a holy place, and his heart was heavy—­perhaps for his old friend, standing there with uplifted face, perhaps on account of the words he was uttering, perhaps in contrition.  In a few minutes he would go forward, and take the old preacher by the arm, and try, as he had once tried before, to lead him to rest and shelter from so vain an intensity of prayer.  But just now he would wait to hear the words he said.  He could not but wait, for so dull, so silent, did all things remain, that the earnestness of the expectant band made itself felt as an agony of hope waning to despair.

Absorbed in this, Alec heard what came to him as harsh profane speech; and yet it was not this; it was the really modest address of a young man who felt constrained to speak to him.

“I don’t know,” he said nervously (his accent was American), “who you may be, but I just wish to state that I’ve a sort of notion one of those fellows right down there means mischief to one of these poor ladies in white, who is his wife.  I ain’t very powerful myself, but, I take it, you’re pretty strong, aren’t you?”

Alec gave impatient assent; but the men whom he was asked to watch approached no nearer to the women but remained behind the preacher.

All this time old Cameron prayed on, and while it might be that hope in his followers was failing, in his voice there was increasing gladness and fervour.

The clouds above shifted a little.  To those wrapped in true anticipation their shifting was as the first sign of a descending heaven.  Somewhere behind the thick clouds there was a crescent moon, and when in the upper region of the sky a rift was made in the deep cloud cover, though she did not shine through, the sky beyond was lit by her light, and the upper edges of cloud were white as snow.

As the well of clear far light was opened to the old man’s gaze, his prayer stopped suddenly, and he stood only looking upwards.  They did not see so much as know from the manner in which his voice had failed, that for him, at least, there were moments of ecstasy in the assurance of hope.

“Poor fellow!” muttered Alec under his breath, for he felt the poignant disappointment of the awakening.

A sweet sound made some of them turn an instant toward the wood, for a little bird, disturbed in its hiding there, lilted forth a twittering song of joy.

Its notes had not ceased when Alec heard a gasp of terror from the lady near him, and saw, as one sees an act there is no time to avert, that one of the rough fellows who were standing behind the old man had suddenly struck him down by a savage blow upon the head.