tributing what means she had for their relief, when Allan M'Aulay suddenly entered the apartment. She started, for she had heard that he had left the camp upon a distant mission; and, however accustomed she was to the gloom of his countenance, it seemed at present to have even a darker shade than usual. He stood before her perfectly silent, and she felt the necessity of being the first to speak.
"I thought," she said, with some effort, "you had already set out."
"My companion awaits me," said Allan; "I go instantly."
Yet still he stood before her, and held her by the arm, with a pressure which, though insufficient to give her pain, made her sensible of his great personal strength, his hand closing on her like the gripe of a manacle.
"Shall I take the harp?" she said, in a timid voice; "is—is the shadow falling upon you?"
Instead of replying, he led her to the
