The kirk could not be seen from the gate of the enclosure in which it stood, for the path took a turn round some thick bushes. A low dyke of unpointed stone girdled it and kept at bay the broom and whins clothing the hillock. When his phaeton stopped, Somerville got out, and was in time to greet the bride as Fullarton handed her out of the carriage; he did not fail to notice the tremor of the fingers he touched. He went on and slipped into a group of bystanders surrounding the door without observing the figure which stood near the kirk wall, a little apart. A movement went through the group as Fullarton appeared by the tall bushes leading Cecilia. While they advanced a man walked forward and stood in the way; a man with splashed clothes and high boots, brown with the soil; the wet hair was dark upon his forehead and his eyes looked straight before him to where the bride came, brave and pale, under her green wreath. She saw him and stopped. Her hand slipped from Fullarton’s arm. Unheeding Robert’s exclamation, he sprang towards her, his eyes burning. ‘Cecilia,’ he said, almost under his breath, ‘am I too late?’ The slight commotion caused by this unexpected incident had brought Barclay to the doorway; Crauford’s face could be seen behind his shoulder. ‘Great Heavens! Here’s Speid!’ exclaimed the lawyer, seizing his friend. Fordyce moved irresolutely, longing to rush forward, but aware that custom decreed he should await his bride’s entrance in the kirk; he scarcely realized the import of what had happened outside its walls while he stood, unconscious, between them. Barclay ran out to the little group round which the onlookers were collecting, and he followed, unable to sacrifice his annoyance to his sense of what was expected. Not for a moment did he believe that decency could be outraged by anything more than an interruption. In the background stood Mary and Agneta, aghast under their pink-rosetted bonnets. ‘May I ask what you have come here for, sir?’ he inquired, approaching Gilbert. But Speid’s back was turned, for he was looking at Cecilia. ‘Come!’ cried Fullarton, sternly, ‘come, Cecilia! I cannot permit this. Stand aside, Mr. Speid, if you please.’ ‘Cecilia, what are you going to do?’ urged Gilbert, standing before her, as though he would bar her progress to the kirk door. ‘I have come back for you.’ She looked round and saw the steady eyes of Captain Somerville fixed upon her. He had come close and was at her side, his stout figure drawn up, his wooden leg planted firmly on the gravel; there was in his countenance a mighty loyalty. ‘Gilbert,’ she exclaimed, with a sob in her voice, ‘thank God you have come.’ Then she faced the bridegroom. ‘I cannot go on with this, Mr. Fordyce,’ she said. ‘But it is too late!’ cried Robert. ‘There shall be no more of this trifling. You are engaged to my nephew and you must fulfil your engagement. I am here to see that you do.’