What were the feelings of the profligate as he left the house where an hour before he was leading the revelry, cannot be described. He now saw himself to be what he really was, an outcast, without a friend on the face of the earth. Even his associates of the last hour deserted him on learning his downfall leaving him a solitary wanderer to commune with his own harassing thoughts. He cursed the first morning that he saw the Bridge of Linn, and he believed himself bewitched on that occasion by its romantic scenery, and above all, by the fascinations of Bella, whom he now blamed for all his misfortunes.
But why had she appeared before him again to open afresh the wounds she had caused? And how had she come? Why, as the bride of another and that and one his rival! What a triumph! He who was turned off the estate as the stumbling-block to his Lordship's happiness, now returning to retaliate, not only as being the possessor of the prize, but also the owner of the estate, driving him as an outcast from the last possession he had. And they so happy; how lovingly they gazed on each other! How happy would he be were the least of those smiles bestowed upon him. He would have gladly endured all Charlie had done, if he were to be rewarded with but one single glance of kindness from her.
These and such were the thoughts which harassed his troubled mind as he wended his steps towards that castle which was now no longer his, and which he would be compelled to leave without a soul near him, with the exception of the perjured Brown.
The thoughts which tormented the latter were no less excruciating than his master's. The vengeance which awaited his previous conduct began to loom over his guilty conscience. What a pitiful contrast his harrowing thoughts and situation presented before his innocent, manly, and happy rival and former victim Donald Munro; the fond, matronly wife Mary, and the beautiful children.
