PROLOGUE.

BY THE WAYSIDE


As Ralph Peden came along the dusty Cairn Edward road from the
coach which had set him down there on its way to the Ferry town,
he paused to rest in the evening light at the head of the Long
Wood of Larbrax. Here, under boughs that arched the way, he took
from his shoulders his knapsack, filled with Hebrew and Greek
books, and rested his head on the larger bag of roughly tanned
Westland leather, in which were all his other belongings. They
were not numerous. He might, indeed, have left both his bags for
the Dullarg carrier on Saturday, but to lack his beloved books for
four days was not to be thought of for a moment by Ralph Peden. He
would rather have carried them up the eight long miles to the
manse of the Dullarg one by one.

As he sat by the tipsy milestone, which had swayed sidelong and
lay half buried amid the grass and dock leaves, a tall, dark girl
came by--half turning to look at the young man as he rested. It
was Jess Kissock, from the Herd's House at Craig Ronald, on her
way home from buying trimmings for a new hat. This happened just
twice a year, and was a solemn occasion.