well ask, for never
but on Sabbath days, since the day they had laid his mother away under
the birch trees, had Allan put foot inside the kirkyard.

"Half an hour ago he went in," replied the young Highlander, "and he has
not returned."

"I will go in, then," said the girl, and hesitated, unwilling that a
stranger's eyes should witness what she knew was waiting her there.

"You, Sir, will perhaps abide with me," suggested Mr. Maclise to Martin,
with a quick understanding of her hesitation.

"Oh, thank you," cried Moira. "This is Mr. Martin from Canada, Mr.
Maclise--my brother's great friend. Mr. Maclise is our schoolmaster
here," she added, turning to Martin, "and we are very proud of him."
The Highlander's pale face became the colour of his brilliant hair as he
remarked, "You are very good indeed, Miss Cameron, and I am glad to make
the acquaintance of Mr. Martin. It will give me great pleasure to show
Mr. Martin the little falls at the loch's end, if he cares to step that
far." If Mr. Martin was conscious of any great desire to view the little
falls at the loch's end, his face most successfully dissembled any such
feeling, but to the little falls he must go as the schoolmaster quietly
possessed himself of him and led him away, while Miss Cameron, with
never a thought of either of them, passed up the broad path into the
kirkyard. There, at the tower's foot, she came upon her brother, prone
upon the little grassy mound, with arms outspread, as if to hold it in
embrace. At the sound of his sister's tread upon the gravel, he raised
himself to his knees swiftly, and with a fierce gesture, as if resenting
intrusion.

"Oh, it is you, Moira," he said quietly, sinking down upon the grass. At
the sight of his tear-stained, haggard face, the girl ran to him with
a cry, and throwing herself down beside him put her arms about him with
inarticulate sounds of pity. At length her brother raised himself from
the ground.

"Oh, it is terrible to leave it all," he groaned; "yet I am glad to
leave, for it is more terrible to stay; the very Glen I cannot look at;
and the people, I cannot bear their eyes. Oh," he groaned, wringing his
hands, "if she were here she would understand, but there is nobody."

"Oh, Allan," cried his sister in reproach.

"Oh, yes, I know! I know! You believe in me, Moira, but you are just a
lassie, and you cannot understand."

"Yes, you know well I believe in you, Allan, and others, too, believe in
you.