, and become whole with the church
again."

More than a fortnight had passed since the glover had arrived at
Ballough, and he began to wonder that he had not heard news of Catharine
or of Henry Wynd, to whom he concluded the provost had communicated the
plan and place of his retreat. He knew the stout smith dared not come
up into the Clan Quhele country, on account of various feuds with
the inhabitants, and with Eachin himself, while bearing the name of
Conachar; but yet the glover thought Henry might have found means to
send him a message, or a token, by some one of the various couriers who
passed and repassed between the court and the headquarters of the Clan
Quhele, in order to concert the terms of the impending combat, the
march of the parties to Perth, and other particulars requiring previous
adjustment. It was now the middle of March, and the fatal Palm Sunday
was fast approaching.

Whilst time was thus creeping on, the exiled glover had not even once
set eyes upon his former apprentice. The care that was taken to attend
to his wants and convenience in every respect showed that he was not
forgotten; but yet, when he heard the chieftain's horn ringing through
the woods, he usually made it a point to choose his walk in a different
direction. One morning, however, he found himself unexpectedly in
Eachin's close neighbourhood, with scarce leisure to avoid him, and thus
it happened.

As Simon strolled pensively through a little silvan glade, surrounded
on either side with tall forest trees, mixed with underwood, a white doe
broke from the thicket, closely pursued by two deer greyhounds, one
of which griped her haunch, the other her throat, and pulled her down
within half a furlong of the glover, who was something startled at the
suddenness of the incident. The ear and piercing blast of a horn, and
the baying of a slow hound, made Simon aware that the hunters were close
behind, and on the trace of the deer. Hallooing and the sound of
men running through the copse were heard close at hand. A moment's
recollection would have satisfied Simon that his best way was to stand
fast, or retire slowly, and leave it to Eachin to acknowledge his
presence or not, as he should see cause. But his desire of shunning the
young man had grown into a kind of instinct, and in the alarm of finding
him so near, Simon hid himself in a bush of hazels mixed with holly,
which altogether concealed him. He had hardly done so ere Eachin, rosy
wi