er
full triumph, people pointing her out all the way as the lady who was
pretended to be dead and buried, but who had come back, in favour with
the king, to avenge him and herself at once on their common enemies.
She wondered whether Lord Lovat's cool assurance would give way at such
a moment--she almost feared not--almost shrank already from the idea of
some wounding gibe--frowned and clenched her hands while fancying what
it would be, and then smiled at the thought of how she would smile, and
bow an eternal farewell to the dying man, reminding him of her old
promise to sit at a window and see his head fall.

But the astonishment to all Edinburgh would be when she should look on
triumphantly to see her husband die. He had played the widower in sight
of all Edinburgh, and now it would be seen how great was the lie, and
nobody could dispute that the widowhood was hers. She hoped that he
would turn his prim figure and formal face her way, that she might make
him, too, an easy bow, showing how she despised the hypocrite, and how
completely he had failed in breaking her spirit. She hoped she should
be in good looks at that time, not owning the power of her enemies by
looking worn and haggard. She must consider her appearance a little
more than she had done lately in view of this future time. Her being
somewhat weather-browned would not matter; it would be rather an
advantage, as testifying to her banishment; but she must be in
comfortable plight, and for this purpose--

Here her meditations were cut short by the approach of some people. She
heard a pony's feet on the rock, and caught sight of a woman's head,
wrapped in a plaid, as the party mounted directed towards her. It was
too late for escape--and there was no need. The woman on the pony was
Annie; and nobody else was there but Rollo.

"The wonder is that you are not frozen," said Rollo, "if you have been
lying here all this time. You look as red in the face, and as warm as
if you had been by the fire below in the snug sand. And that is where
we must go now directly; for mother cannot stand the cold up here. She
would come, as it happened she could have one of Macdonald's ponies
to-day. Well, I cannot but think how you could keep yourself warm,
unless you are a witch as Macdonald says you are."

"It is the mother's heart in her, Rollo, that keeps out the cold and the
harm," said Annie. "It may be a wonder to you; for how should you know
what it is to ha