age after he had heard the murmured communication,
that Simon Glover apprehended he would cast the youth from him as a
dishonoured thing, in which case he might have lighted among the very
copse in which he lay concealed, and occasioned his discovery in a
manner equally painful and dangerous. But the passions of Torquil,
who entertained for his foster child even a double portion of that
passionate fondness which always attends that connexion in the Highlands
took a different turn.

"I believe it not," he exclaimed; "it is false of thy father's child,
false of thy mother's son, falsest of my dault! I offer my gage to
heaven and hell, and will maintain the combat with him that shall call
it true. Thou hast been spellbound by an evil eye, my darling, and the
fainting which you call cowardice is the work of magic. I remember the
bat that struck the torch out on the hour that thou wert born--that hour
of grief and of joy. Cheer up, my beloved. Thou shalt with me to Iona,
and the good St. Columbus, with the whole choir of blessed saints and
angels, who ever favoured thy race, shall take from thee the heart of
the white doe and return that which they have stolen from thee."

Eachin listened, with a look as if he would fain have believed the words
of the comforter.

"But, Torquil," he said, "supposing this might avail us, the fatal day
approaches, and if I go to the lists, I dread me we shall be shamed."

"It cannot be--it shall not!" said Torquil. "Hell shall not prevail so
far: we will steep thy sword in holy water, place vervain, St. John's
Wort, and rowan tree in thy crest. We will surround thee, I and thy
eight brethren: thou shalt be safe as in a castle."

Again the youth helplessly uttered something, which, from the dejected
tone in which it was spoken, Simon could not understand, while Torquil's
deep tones in reply fell full and distinct upon his ear.

"Yes, there may be a chance of withdrawing thee from the conflict. Thou
art the youngest who is to draw blade. Now, hear me, and thou shalt know
what it is to have a foster father's love, and how far it exceeds the
love even of kinsmen. The youngest on the indenture of the Clan Chattan
is Ferquhard Day. His father slew mine, and the red blood is seething
hot between us; I looked to Palm Sunday as the term that should cool it.
But mark! Thou wouldst have thought that the blood in the veins of this
Ferquhard Day and in mine would not have mingled had they been put into