‘I will not,’ she replied.--‘Forgive me, sir--forgive me, I beg of you! I know that I have no right to ask you to stand by me.’ ‘I shall not do so, certainly,’ exclaimed Robert, angrily. She glanced round, desperate. Captain Somerville was holding out his arm. ‘My phaeton is outside, Miss Raeburn,’ he said, ‘and you will do me the favour to come home with me. Speid,’ he added, ‘am I doing right?’ But Gilbert could scarcely answer. A great glory had dawned in his face. EPILOGUE HERE, so far as the author’s choice is concerned, this history closes. The man and woman, forced apart by powers greater than themselves, have come to their own again and stand at the portal of a new life, at the door of a structure built from the wreck of bygone things. Those who have watched them may augur for themselves what the future is like to be for them, and shut the book, assured that the record of these two, for whom life held so much more than they could see with their eyes and touch with their hands, will not fall below its mark. But, to that vast and ingenuous multitude which has taste for the dotted ‘i’ and the crossed ‘t,’ there remains yet a word to be added. Cecilia stayed under Captain Somerville’s roof while the disturbing events round her quieted themselves, and while Gilbert, who received a challenge from Fordyce, settled the score. Even she scarcely felt anxious, as she awaited the result of their meeting, for Speid chose the sword as a weapon and had assured her he would deal as tenderly with Crauford as though he were a new-born babe. This he proceeded to do, so long as it amused him, after which he scratched him deftly on the inside of the wrist and the seconds, who could scarce restrain their smiles, agreed that honour was satisfied. And so the jasmine-trees were planted at Whanland, the ideal horse bought; the necklace with the emerald drop found the resting-place Gilbert had desired for it. Granny Stirk, accompanied by Jimmy, went to the second wedding which was attempted in Morphie Kirk, and which, this time, was celebrated without interruption; she drove there in a carriage, and the bridegroom, who was standing by the pulpit as she arrived, left his place and conducted her on his arm to a seat near the Miss Robertsons. Crauford married Lady Maria Milwright, who therefore thought herself exalted among women, and was, in reality, much too good for him. Barclay constantly frequented his roof, making Lady Maria very happy by his expressed admiration of her husband; he might have boasted of the intimacy to the end of his life had he not covertly courted Agneta and been taken in the act by Lady Fordyce. Family dignity expelled the offender and the only person who was sorry for him was kind Lady Maria, who rose at an unconscionable hour to preside over his breakfast before he departed, forever, amid shame and luggage.