fact, well enough known to him, though to few lowlanders besides,
that revenge is not a characteristic of the Gael. Whatever instances
of it may have appeared, and however strikingly they may have been
worked up in fiction, such belong to the individual and not to
the race. A remarkable proof of this occurs in the history of the
family of Glenco itself. What remained of it after the massacre in
1689, rose in 1745, and joined the forces of Prince Charles Edward.
Arriving in the neighbourhood of the residence of Lord Stair, whose
grandfather had been one of the chief instigators of the massacre,
the prince took special precautions lest the people of Glenco should
wreak inherited vengeance on the earl. But they were so indignant
at being supposed capable of visiting on the innocent the guilt
of their ancestors, that it was with much difficulty they were
prevented from forsaking the standard of the prince, and returning
at once to their homes. Perhaps a yet stronger proof is the fact,
fully asserted by one Gaelic scholar at least, that their literature
contains nothing to foster feelings of revenge.]

The master placed so little value on any possible results of
mere argument, and had indeed so little faith in any words except
such as came hot from the heart, that he said no more, but, with
an invitation to Malcolm to visit him in the evening, wished them
good day, and turned in at his own door.

The two went slowly on towards the sea town. The road was speckled
with home goers, single and in groups, holding a quiet Sunday pace
to their dinners. Suddenly Duncan grasped Malcolm's arm with the
energy of perturbation, almost of fright, and said in a loud whisper:

"Tere'll be something efil not far from her, Malcolm, my son! Look