Gilbert looked uneasily from his brother’s grief-stricken face to the weary, wan face of the bride. How long were they going to sit there side by side without a word to each other? he thought uneasily. He felt a great wave of pity well up in his heart for the unwelcome, unloved addition to their family. True she was mostly to blame for her present misfortune. Her imprudence, her misconduct had been well known to many, before his brother had gone to Mauchline to live. He felt sorry for Robert, too, even while he bitterly reproached him for being the author of Mary’s unhappiness. They must make the best of things now, he thought philosophically. “Ye had better take off your bonnet, lassie,” he said kindly, breaking the oppressive silence. “Ye’ll be staying here the night.” She raised her head and looked at him with flashing eyes. “Full well I know that all here hate and despise me,” she burst forth bitterly, not heeding his request. Robert slowly raised his head and looked at her. There was sorrow and compassion in his dark melancholy eyes. “Jean,” he said quietly, “our lives have been linked togither by a stern, inexorable fate. We have both been guilty of a grievous sin, and noo we must face the results bravely.” He rose and walked to her and stood humbly by her side. “I hope ye’ll forgive me, Jean, for wreckin’ your life and plungin’ ye into sae much misery.” Slowly Jean bowed her head, her face flushing guiltily. Surely she had the more need to ask his forgiveness. She had not expected to find such nobility of character, and it moved her deeply. “There is naught to forgive,” she cried in a low stifled voice. “I alone am to blame. I am unfit, unworthy to be your wife. Oh, I’m so miserable, so unhappy,” and she burst into tears. Souter led old Donald silently out of the room. There was nothing either one could say to the wretched couple, so they sat outside and talked it all over in the way old men have. They had not been seated long, however, when they espied coming toward them, at a furious gallop, a horse and rider. As they drew near Souter perceived with sudden apprehension that it was none other than Squire Armour. He rose anxiously to his feet. “Do ye ken wha’ it is, Souter?” inquired Donald in a quavering voice. “It’s Squire Armour himsel’,” whispered Souter cautiously. “Ma certie!” ejaculated Donald, shaking his white locks in mild alarm. “I’d better warn the lass,” said Souter hastily, as the Squire drew up to the gate. Going to the door he quickly told them of the newcomer, then turned to intercept the irate visitor, who was coming swiftly up the walk. “Heavens, my father here!” cried Jean in a frightened whisper. “Oh, I dare not face his wrath. Protect me, Robert,” and she clung to him fearfully. “Out o’ my way, mon!” they heard the harsh voice of Squire Armour shouting. “Out o’ my way,” and pushing aside the courageous little man he strode wrathfully into the room.