However it was Macaulay got out of his trap, he got out by himself, with his clerk behind him. The lad ran over the island, took a boat to Arisaig, and never came back again; the factor reached the door of his home at dark an amazing figure in drenched and savage garments, with a dirk lying flat against the brawn of his bare arm. He burst upon his wife like a calamity, but she never blenched. The kettle hung upon its chain; with a thrust of her foot she swung it over the fire, and rose to her feet to put a hand on the shoulder of her soaking lord. “Oh, Alick! come in, come in!” she said, and so mighty he looked and strange in the room that had known the decent lawyer, it seemed to her as if he filled it. The river ran from his garments, and when he moved, the hides on his feet sucked upon the flooring. “They tell me at Kilree the Captain is here,” he said, looking uplifted about him, keeping the blade of his weapon out of her sight. “He is just come,” she answered, “and is in front there, keeping your place for you.” A devilish satisfaction betrayed itself in Macaulay’s face. “I have tasted life,” he said, stretching out his arms, and gloating, as it seemed, upon himself. “I have tasted life, and I would not change with kings! All the clan cries in me, and I am proud, proud! But there is one thing wanting: I will make sure of him this time,” and saying that, he flourished the dirk and made for the door that led to his writing chamber. His wife gave a cry, and put herself before him. “Oh, Alick!” she said, as calm as she could be, “you are very wet; at least you will first of all put on dry hose and take a dish of tea,” pushing him gently at the same time towards his accustomed chair. He fondled his weapon, and sat in the humour of one who is willing to put off a pleasure that it may be greater by delay. She plucked the _cuarains_ from his feet and put on him hose and slippers, all in a nervous haste, and the slippers were no sooner on his feet than he shook himself, looked with disgust on his drenched tartan, and threw the dirk away. “My God!” said he; “what cantrip is this?” “You will have a dish of tea,” said the wife, hurriedly preparing it; and he wriggled his toes in the slippers and sat closer to the fire, cherishing its warmth with that accustomed manner he forgot the day he went astray. Again and again he looked at himself, and, sipping the tea, “What a folly! What a folly!” he would utter. “What put such mischief in my brain? And we were over head and ears with business at the office! I must work night and day if I am to be ready for the rents. Young Macdonald, too! Tut, tut! the thing was fair ridiculous! I’m black affronted. Flora, woman, haste ye and get my breeks!” The discarded broadcloth was put out; he sheared and shaved himself before the glass till the wild man of the mountain was gone, and emerged the lawyer, then walked into his writing chamber.