“Remain,” said Allan, still holding her fast; “be my visions from heaven or hell, or from the middle sphere of disembodied spirits--or be they, as the Saxons hold, but the delusions of an over-heated fancy, they do not now influence me; I speak the language of the natural, of the visible world.--You love not me, Annot--you love Menteith--by him you are beloved again, and Allan is no more to you than one of the corpses which encumber yonder heath.” It cannot be supposed that this strange speech conveyed any new information to her who was thus addressed. No woman ever lived who could not, in the same circumstances, have discerned long since the state of her lover’s mind. But by thus suddenly tearing off the veil, thin as it was, Allan prepared her to expect consequences violent in proportion to the enthusiasm of his character. She made an effort to repel the charge he had stated. “You forget,” she said, “your own worth and nobleness when you insult so very helpless a being, and one whom fate has thrown so totally into your power. You know who and what I am, and how impossible it is that Menteith or you can use language of affection to me, beyond that of friendship. You know from what unhappy race I have too probably derived my existence.” “I will not believe it,” said Allan, impetuously; “never flowed crystal drop from a polluted spring.” “Yet the very doubt,” pleaded Annot, “should make you forbear to use this language to me.” “I know,” said M’Aulay, “it places a bar between us--but I know also that it divides you not so inseparably from Menteith.--Hear me, my beloved Annot!--leave this scene of terrors and danger--go with me to Kintail--I will place you in the house of the noble Lady of Seaforth--or you shall be removed in safety to Icolmkill, where some women yet devote themselves to the worship of God, after the custom of our ancestors.” “You consider not what you ask of me,” replied Annot; “to undertake such a journey under your sole guardianship, were to show me less scrupulous than maiden ought. I will remain here, Allan--here under the protection of the noble Montrose; and when his motions next approach the Lowlands, I will contrive some proper means to relieve you of one, who has, she knows not how, become an object of dislike to you.” Allan stood as if uncertain whether to give way to sympathy with her distress, or to anger at her resistance. “Annot,” he said, “you know too well how little your words apply to my feelings towards you--but you avail yourself of your power, and you rejoice in my departure, as removing a spy upon your intercourse with Menteith. But beware both of you,” he added, in a stern tone; “for when was it ever heard that an injury was offered to Allan M’Aulay, for which he exacted not tenfold vengeance?” So saying, he pressed her arm forcibly, pulled the bonnet over his brows, and strode out of the apartment. CHAPTER XXI.