resentment, swept in hot passionate waves over her; and the very intensity
of her mental anguish imparted to her body a kind of majesty that perforce
commanded respect.

Never had Allan thought her so beautiful. The words of irrevocable
Devotion were on his lips. But at that moment had he been king of
Scotland, Maggie Promoter would not have stayed to listen to them. So he
turned to Angus. The man, with an insolent, defiant face, stood leaning
against the rock. He had taken out his pipe, and with an assumption of
indifference was trying to light it. Every trick of self-defence was known
to Allan. He could have flung Angus to the ground as easily as a
Cumberland shepherd throws the untrained wrestler, but how little honor,
and how much shame, there would be in such an encounter! He looked
steadily at the cowardly bully for a moment, and then turning on his heel,
followed Maggie. The mocking laugh which Angus sent after him, did not
move any feeling but contempt; he was far more anxious to comfort and
conciliate the suffering, angry woman, than to revenge himself upon so
despicable an enemy.

But when he arrived at the cottage the door was shut. This was so rarely
its condition that he could not help feeling that Maggie had intentionally
put him away from her presence. He was miserable in his uncertainty, he
longed to comfort the womanhood he had heard outraged, but he was not
selfish enough to intrude upon a desired solitude, although as he slowly
walked up and down before the closed door, he almost felt the chafing of
the wounded heart behind it.

And Maggie, in all her anger and humiliation, was not insensible to
Allan's position. As she rocked herself to and fro, and wept and moaned
Without restraint, she was conscious of the man who respected her unjust