inute!" answered Donal, wiping the blood
out of his eyes. "I've a good hard head, thank God!--But what has
become of them?"

"Ye didna think he wud be waitin' to see 's come to oorsel's!" said the
cobbler.

With Donal's help, and great difficulty, he rose, and they stood
looking at each other through the starlight, bewildered and uncertain.
The cobbler was the first to recover his wits.

"It's o' no mainner of use," he said, "to rouse the castel wi' hue an'
cry! What hae we to say but 'at we faund the twa i' the gairden
thegither! It wud but raise a clash--the which, fable or fac', wud do
naething for naebody! His lordship maun be loot ken, as ye say; but
wull his lordship believe ye, sir? I'm some i' the min' the yoong man
's awa' til's faither a'ready, to prejudeese him again' onything ye may
say."

"That makes it the more necessary," said Donal, "that I should go at
once to his lordship. He will fall out upon me for not having told him
at once; but I must not mind that: if I were not to tell him now, he
would have a good case against me."

They were already walking towards the house, the old man giving a groan
now and then. He could not go in, he said; he would walk gently on, and
Donal would overtake him.

It was an hour and a half before Andrew got home, and Donal had not
overtaken him.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE EARL'S BEDCHAMBER.

Having washed the blood from his face, Donal sought Simmons.

"His lordship can't see you now, I am sure, sir," answered the butler;
"lord Forgue is with him."

Donal turned and went straight up to lord Morven's apartment. As he
passed the door of his bedroom opening on the corridor, he heard voices
in debate. He entered the sitting-room. There was no one there. It was
not a time for ceremony. He knocked at the door of the bedroom. The
voices within were loud, and no answer came. He knocked again, and
received an angry permission to enter. He entered, closed the door
behind him, and stood in sight of his lordship, waiting what should
follow.

Lord Morven was sitting up in bed, his face so pale and distorted that
Donal thought elsewhere he should hardly have recognized it. The bed
was a large four-post bed; its curtains were drawn close to the posts,
admitting as much air as possible. At the foot of it stood lord Forgue,
his handsome, shallow face flushed with anger, his right arm straight
down by his side, and the hand of it clenched hard. He turned when
Donal entered.