I very soon was made aware that there was no fear of myself going
unobserved. At one time or another I caught every eye in that
congregation rivetted on me, and it only remained for me to give the
proper impression to carry away with them.

As I was unable to see myself as others saw me, I cannot say precisely
what effect I produced, but if a habit of looking suddenly and guiltily
at the floor when I caught a hard staring eye, a conspicuous difficulty
in following the order of the service and knowing what book to be picked
up and whether to kneel, sit, or stand, and peculiarly unpleasant shake
which I introduced into my top note--if all these manifestations failed
to convey the impression that I was a very suspicious person indeed,
well, all I can say is that they ought to have done so, and that that
congregation must have been singularly deficient in the proper kind of
imagination. Of course I could hardly expect a sympathetic signal to be
actually made in church, but I did hope my performance would surely bear
fruit before many hours had passed.

At last the service ended, the commons crowded out, and the laird and his
daughter rose in their wake and greeted the minister on their way to the
door. I noticed that they did not introduce me, and also that the
Reverend Mr. Mackenzie regarded me--over Miss Rendall's shoulder--with a
sternly suspicious glance. Evidently he had heard ill of me already, and
hope burned higher. If the minister had heard dark rumours, surely the
spies had! Or anyhow they would when that congregation had all reached
their homes (if they were not among the congregation themselves).

We passed again through many eyes in the kirkyard, and then the Rev. Mr.
Mackenzie and the laird walked together for a short way and I found
myself alone with Miss Jean.