‘He will be more uncomfortable to-morrow,’ said Gilbert grimly. ‘Poor fellow,’ said Cecilia softly. ‘It must be a terrible thing to be really afraid.’ ‘It is inexcusable in a man.’ ‘I suppose it is,’ replied she slowly, ‘and yet----’ ‘And yet--you think I should put up with him? He has enraged me often enough, but he has been past all bearing to-night.’ ‘Do you really mean to send him away? He has been years at Whanland, has he not?’ ‘He has,’ said Gilbert; ‘but let us forget him, Miss Raeburn, he makes me furious.’ When they reached the house, Lady Eliza led the way to the dining-room, and despatched such servants as were to be found for wine. Her hospitable zeal might even have caused a fresh dinner to be cooked, had not the two men assured her that they had only left the table at Whanland to come to Morphie. ‘If I may have some water to wash the cut on my face, I will make it a little more comfortable,’ said Speid. He was accordingly shown into a gloomy bedroom on the upper floor, and the maid who had opened the door to Macquean, having recovered from her hysterics, was assiduous in bringing him hot water and a sponge. As the room was unused, it had all the deadness of a place unfrequented by humanity, and the heavy curtains of the bed and immense pattern of birds and branches which adorned the wall-paper gave everything a lugubrious look. He examined his cut at the looking-glass over the mantelshelf, an oblong mirror with a tarnished gilt frame. The stone which had struck him was muddy, and he found, when he had washed the wound, that it was deeper than he supposed. It ached and smarted as he applied the sponge, for the flint had severed the flesh sharply. As he dried his wet cheek in front of the glass, he saw a figure which was entering the room reflected in it. ‘Lady Eliza has sent me with this. Can I help you, sir?’ said Cecilia rather stiffly, showing him a little case containing plaster. She held a pair of scissors in her hand. He turned. ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed, as she saw the long, red scar; ‘that is really bad! Do, pray, use this plaster. Look, I will cut it for you.’ And she opened the case, and began to divide its contents into strips. ‘You are very good,’ he said awkwardly, as he watched the scissors moving. She did not reply. ‘I had no intention of disturbing the house in this way,’ he continued; ‘it is allowing to Macquean’s imbecility. You need never have known anything till to-morrow morning.’ ‘You are very angry with Macquean,’ said Cecilia. ‘I cannot bear to think of his leaving a place where he has lived so long. But you will be cooler to-morrow, I am sure. Now, Mr. Speid, I have made this ready. Will you dip it in the water and put this strip across the cut?’ Gilbert did as he was bid, and, pressing the edges of the wound together, began to lay the plaster across his cheek. ‘You can hardly see,’ said she. ‘Let me hold the light.’