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The slaughter of the unfortunate Allan Breack had given a different colour to Hamish's offence; for the deceased was much beloved, and besides belonged to a numerous and powerful clan, of whom there were many in the ranks. The unfortunate criminal, on the contrary, was little known to, and scarcely connected with, any of his regimental companions.
First, to his rooms again, to see if by chance the letter had come in his absence. Then, as it had not, to Lady Elspeth Gordon's for old Hamish's latest news, which, in a letter from his wife, was satisfactory as far as it went, but pointed to a protracted stay.
"I cannot leave Helstonleigh myself," he said; "therefore it must devolve upon Arthur. Of course his journey will be an expense; but there are times when expense must not be regarded. I consider this one of them." "A letter would go more quickly," said Mr. Galloway. "Scarcely, in these days of travelling," was Hamish's reply. "But that is not the question.
For now the wild skirl of Donald's pipes was plainly audible; and the various packages the new rifle, the wooden case containing the wonderful dresses for Lady Macleod and her niece, and what not were all ranged ready; to say nothing of some loaves of white bread that the steward was sending ashore at Hamish's request.
There was no dispute, from the firelocks which they carried, and the plaids and bonnets which they wore, that they were a party of Hamish's regiment, under a non-commissioned officer; and there could be as little doubt of the purpose of their appearance on the banks of Loch Awe.
Hamish's eyes met Odalie's, which were clear, liquidly bright, as if fired with some delightful anticipation, and yet weary and feverishly eager. Oh, this was delirium! She did not realize her surroundings; her intelligence was gone!
Who can tell whether this was the purport of Hamish's thoughts as he sat there in abstraction, away from the light, his head upon his hand. He did not say. Arthur rose; the silence was telling upon him. "May I say good night to you, father?" "Have you nothing else to say?" asked Mr. Channing. "In what way, sir?" asked Arthur, in a low tone. "In the way of explanation.
He felt amply capable of taking care of himself, and if he were not why, his scalp was not worth saving! He extricated himself with unflattered surprise from Hamish's frantic embrace that was like the frenzied hug of a young bear and made his ribs crack. "That's enough, Hamish; that's enough!" he said. "Of course I'm safe, all right. That's enough."
He got through his work the copying of a somewhat elaborate will and returned home to breakfast. He found Mr. Channing had risen, which was not usual. Like Arthur, his night had been an anxious one, and the bustle of the breakfast-room was more tolerable than bed. I wonder what Hamish's had been! The meal passed in uncomfortable silence.
"But we will try your nerve, Ogilvie, with a stag or two, I hope." "I am on for anything. What with Hamish's flattery and the luck I had to-day, I begin to believe I could bag a brace of tigers if they were coming at me fifty miles an hour." Ogilvie was nothing loath.
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