“But all the time I was confident there was one waiting for me at home.” “Oh, yes, yes,” said Kirsteen, as if it had been her own tale. “The news from the army was slow in those days, and there was many a mistake. Word was sent home that I was killed when I was but badly wounded. I had neither father nor mother to inquire closely, and everybody believed it, and she too. I believe her friends were glad on the whole, for I was a poor match for her. Her heart was nearly broke, but she was very young and she got over it, and, whether with her own will or without it I cannot tell, but when I came home at last it was her wedding-day.” “Oh!” Kirsteen cried almost with a shriek, “was that the end of her waiting? Me, I would have waited and waited on----” “Wait now and ye will hear. The marriage was just over when I came to her father’s house thinking no evil. And we met; and when she saw me, and that I was a living man, and remembered the ring that was on her finger and that she was another man’s wife--she went into her own maiden chamber that she had never left and shut to the door. And there she just died, and never spoke another word.” “Oh, Glendochart!” cried Kirsteen with an anguish of sympathy, thinking of Ronald, and of the poor dead bride, and of the sorrow which seemed to her throbbing heart impossible, as if anything so cruel could not have been. She clasped his arm with both her hands, looking up at him with all her heart in her face. “My bonny dear!” he said with surprised emotion, touching her clasped hands with his. And then he began to talk of other things: for they were in the ball-room, where, though every one was absorbed in his or her own pleasure, or else bitterly resenting the absence of the pleasure they expected, yet there were a hundred eyes on the watch for any incident. Kirsteen, in the warmth of her roused feelings, thought nothing of that. She was thinking of the other who was away with his regiment, for who could tell how many years--and for whom one was waiting at home--one that would never put another in his place, no, not for a moment, not whatever news might come! CHAPTER X. “It was just a very bonny ball,” said Mary. “No, I was not disappointed at all. I danced with young Mr. Campbell of the Haigh, and once with old Glendochart, who is a very well-mannered man, though he is not so young as once he was.” “He was by far, and by far, the nicest there,” cried Kirsteen with enthusiasm. “For them that like an auld joe,” said Mary demurely. Kirsteen had no thought of “joes” old or young, but she thought with pleasure that she had gained a friend. “The Duke took me for his daughter--and oh! if there was such a person she would be a happy lass. Aunt Eelen, did you ever hear----”