to his great mortification, he was disappointed; the room in which she
slept, being on the third story, presented a window, it is true, to the
garden; but how was he to reach it, or hold a dialogue with her, even
should she recognize him, without being overheard by some of the family?
All this might have occurred to him at home, had he been sufficiently
cool for reflection. As it was, the only method of awakening her that he
could think of was to throw up several handsful of small pebbles against
the window. This he tried without any effect. Pebbles sufficiently large
to reach the window would have broken the glass, so that he felt himself
compelled to abandon every hope of speaking to her that night. With
lingering and reluctant steps he left the garden, and stood for some
time before the front of the house, leaning against an upright stone,
called the market cross. Here he had not been more than two minutes,
when he heard footsteps approaching, and on looking closely through
the darkness, he recognized the figure of Nell M'Collum, as it passed
directly to the kitchen window. Here the crone stopped, peered in, and
with caution gave one of the panes a gentle tap. This was responded
to by one much louder from within, and almost immediately the door was
softly opened. From thence issued another female figure, evidently that
of Nanse M'Collum, her niece. Both passed down the street in a northern
direction, and Lamh Laudher, apprehensive that they were on no good
errand, took off his shoes, lest his footsteps might be heard, and
dogged them as they went along. They spoke little, and that in whispers,
until they had got clear of the town, when, feeling less restraint, the
following dialogue occurred to them:--

"Isn't it a quare thing, aunt, that she should come back to this place
at all?"

"Quare enough, but the husband's comin' too--he's to folly her."