"Anither gentleman--a fine, cheery, kindly lad as ye could see--shot him wi' a gun. It was an awfu' disgrace to the parish, as weel as a great crime; but, sae far as I could hear, the folk were mair wae for young Redheugh than they were for Mr. Aytoun." "And were they sure he did it?" asked Jacky, breathlessly. "Sure! Lassie, what could be surer? They found his gun, wi' his name on't and they saw him himsel leaving the wood; and unco easy he had ta'en it, as the folk say, for he was gaun whistling and singing at a fule sang, and the man's bluid on his hand." "If he took it easy, it's mair than his friends did," said Jean Miller, significantly. "I never heard tell of ony friends he had in this part," said the matter-of-fact Mrs. Young. "He was nephew to the auld family, and no son. I mind hearing ance that he was frae some place away in the Hielands--but maybe that was a' lees." "But maybe you werena meaning a relation?" adventured Jacky, addressing Jean. "Na, lassie, it was nae relation. I ken naething about his kin: it was a friend--ane that was uncommon chief wi' him. He was a student lad at that time, that had served his time to be a doctor like my ain nephew Andrew, only he was done wi' the college; and if ever mortal man was out o' his mind wi' trouble and fricht and sore grief for an unhappy reprobate, it was that lad, the morning o' the murder." "Did you see him?" exclaimed Jacky, anxiously. "Ay, lass, I saw him. I was gaun hame that very day to my place that I'm in yet--I've been eighteen year past wi' the same mistress--and it happened I was by that waterside between eight and nine in the morning. I was but a young lass then, and I had reason for't--it's nae matter now what it was. I was coming round the howe o' the brae where the road turns aff to the Milton, when I met that lad. That white apron had mair a life-like color than he had on his face; but, for a' that, he was wiping his brow for heat. The look of him was like the look of a man that had the bluid standing still in his veins. He neither saw me, nor the road he was gaun on, but just dashed on right before him, as if naething could stop him in the race. Ye may tak my word, it's nae little grief like what men ca' sympathy or pity, that could pit a man into a blind madness like that. I ken mair about it noo than I did then." "Woman--Jean!" exclaimed Mrs. Young; "what for did ye no come forrit at the time--it might have helped the proof? Losh! would the tane be helping the tither? would there be twa o' them at the misfortunate man?"