Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the path which her father had taken.

She had lingered till she saw the last of their company rescued from danger, and until she had been assured by the hoarse voice of Mucklebackit, that "the callant had come off wi' unbrizzed banes, and that he was but in a kind of dwam." But Lovel was not aware that she had expressed in his fate even this degree of interest,--which, though nothing more than was due to a stranger who had assisted her in such an hour of peril, he would have gladly purchased by braving even more imminent danger than he had that evening been exposed to.

The beggar she had already commanded to come to Knockwinnock that night.

He made an excuse.--"Then to-morrow let me see you." The old man promised to obey.

Oldbuck thrust something into his hand--Ochiltree looked at it by the torchlight, and returned it--"Na, na! I never tak gowd--besides, Monkbarns, ye wad maybe be rueing it the morn." Then turning to the group of fishermen and peasants--"Now, sirs, wha will gie me a supper and some clean pease-strae ?" "I," "and I," "and I," answered many a ready voice.
"Aweel, since sae it is, and I can only sleep in ae barn at ance, I'll gae down with Saunders Mucklebackit--he has aye a soup o' something comfortable about his begging--and, bairns, I'll maybe live to put ilka ane o' ye in mind some ither night that ye hae promised me quarters and my awmous;" and away he went with the fisherman.
Oldbuck laid the band of strong possession on Lovel--"Deil a stride ye's go to Fairport this night, young man--you must go home with me to Monkbarns.