I should have been drowned but for him." The laird was both proud and stupid, therefore more than ordinarily slow to understand what he was unprepared to hear.
"I am much obliged to him," he said haughtily; "but there is no occasion for him to wait." At this point his sluggish mind began to recall something:--why, this was the very boy he saw in the meadow with her that morning!--He turned fiercely upon him where he lingered, either hoping for a word of adieu from Ginevra, or unwilling to go while she was uncomfortable.
"Leave the house instantly," he said, "or I will knock you down." "O papa!" moaned Ginevra wildly--it was the braver of her that she was trembling from head to foot--"don't speak so to Gibbie.

He is a good boy.

It was he that Angus whipped so cruelly--long ago: I have never been able to forget it." Her father was confounded at her presumption: how dared she expostulate with him! She had grown a bold, bad girl! Good heavens! Evil communications! "If he does not get out of this directly," he cried, "I will have him whipped again.

Angus." He shouted the name, and its echo came back in a wild tone, altogether strange to Ginevra.

She seemed struggling in the meshes of an evil dream.