ately she was hugged rapturously and kissed all over by little
Jeannie, whose movements, as they ever were--so agile, so quick, so
Protean--appeared to her, now that she was stolid with despair, as the
postures and gestures of a creature appearing in a dream.

"Oh, I know all," she cried; "don't speak--nay, wait now till I return."

And the creature was off like a September meteor disappearing in the
west, as if to make up again to the sun, far down away behind the hills
from whence it had been struck off in the height of the day.

What can the strange creature mean? But she had had experience of her,
and knew the instinctive divination that got at objects and results
where reason in full-grown man would syllogize into the darkness of
despair.

Nor was it long before she is running back, leaping with all the
_abandon_ of a romp, crying--

"I will save dear Charlie yet; for I love him as much as I hate that old
curmudgeon."

"What does the girl mean? Whaur was you, bairn?" said her mother.

"Oh mother, how cold it is for you! Wrap the cloak about you."

"But what _is_ it that you mean, Jeannie?"

"We shall be home by-and-by; come."

And, putting an arm round her mother's waist, she impelled her forward
with the strength of her wythe of an arm.

"Come, come, there are ghosts about these woods;" and then she cowered,
but still impelled.

Nor did the mother press the question she had already put twice; for, as
we have said, she knew the nature of the girl, who ever took her own
way, and had the art to make that way either filial obedience or loving
conciliation.

"Oh, I'm so frightened for these ghosts!" she continued. "You know there
was a murder here once upon a time. They're so like myself--wicked, and
won't answer when they're spoken to, as I would not answer you, dear
mother, just now; but wait till to-morrow, and you shall see that I am
your own loving Jeannie."

"Weel, weel, bairn, we _will_ see. But, oh, I'm muckle afraid; d'ye
know, Jeannie, Charlie has been robbing! And wha, think ye, was the
man--wha but--"

"Hush, hush, mother, I know it all already; but let me beneath your
cloak, I'm so frightened."

And the little sprite got in, keeping her head and the little cup of a
bonnet protruding every moment to look round; yet if it could have been
seen in the dark, with such a sly, half-humorous eye, as betokened one
of those curiously-made creatures who seem to be formed for studies to
the thorou