At that moment, to the dismay and horror of the women, Wyllie, Adam’s collie, came running round from the stack-yard barking furiously. Knowing he had accompanied his master to Hartrigge, they stood in intense and silent agony, momentarily expecting to see Adam stride round the corner, and then----. Jane’s lip quivered, Agnes covered her face with her hands, and a low moan escaped her lips. Turner, thinking his threat had frightened them sufficiently, turned his horse’s head, and gave the order to march. The dog, now in a perfect fury, and seeming to have taken a special dislike to the commander, ran barking and snapping at the horse’s heels. "Some of you put a bullet through that yelping cur!" he said, with a great oath. Almost as if understanding the brutal order, Wyllie turned tail and ran to his mistress’s side, crouching in at her skirts. Turner’s order was obeyed, and two pistols were recklessly fired towards the door, heedless of the danger to the women. They missed their aim, but found a mark in Agnes Hepburn’s side. Without a sound she fell at her sister’s feet. For a moment Turner looked dumbfounded and as if uncertain what to do; then, with another great oath, he repeated the word of command, and the whole troop rode off towards Hartrigge. Before they were well out of sight Adam Hepburn, just arrived in the underground shelter with David Gray, pushed up the trap-door, and stepped out into his own barn-yard. From the great confusion and marks of hoofs, he at once saw that the dragoons had visited Rowallan in his absence, and, with sinking heart, lest any harm should have befallen his darling, he hurried into the house. At the door Wyllie met him, and looked up into his face with a piteous moan. The dread stillness in the house almost made the man’s heart stand still. He strode through the kitchen, and when he stood upon the threshold of the sitting-room door, what a sight met his view! Upon the couch lay the prostrate form of his wife, and Jane kneeling by her side, apparently laving something with water. But stay; what was that staining the whiteness of the handkerchief? Was it blood? "My God, Jane, what is this?" he asked, hoarsely, and, with one step, was at the side of the couch. Then he saw the wound in his wife’s side, from which her life blood was slowly ebbing. "They have been here! That is their work, Adam!" Jane Gray answered, in a voiceless whisper. "The bullet intended for poor Wyllie pierced her side! Oh, my poor sister!" Adam Hepburn knelt down by the couch, and, folding his strong arms about the unconscious figure, called his wife by every endearing name to look up to tell him she was not dead. The tones of that well-beloved voice seemed to recall for a brief space the ebbing breath of life.