Jean had taken fright, though she could not herself have told why. For one thing, she was aware of Stapylton’s presence in the parish, and thought of him as of a prowling enemy. But it was difficult for her to associate Isabel’s strange abstractions, her passionate devotion to her child, and all the signs of suppressed agitation about her, with the reappearance of her former lover. Jean had passed the period at which people realise vividly such conflicts of the heart. It seemed to her more likely that Isabel’s calm had been disturbed by all the recollections which the sight of Ailie must have brought to her, than that Mr. Lothian’s widow could have been agitated or excited by the appearance of any man under the sun. ‘Yon English lad’ had never been good enough for ‘our Isabel’ in her stepmother’s eyes; and that she could think of him now seemed well-nigh impossible. But yet something was wrong; and as soon as Isabel had left the house, Jean sent her son on an errand across the braes to the Dominie to beg his help and counsel. Jamie was too late to find ‘the Maister.’ He had gone out on one of the long walks with which, now summer had come, he endeavoured to make up to himself for the want of his friend and companion. But, notwithstanding the failure of this messenger, Mr. Galbraith heard the news more distinctly than Jean could have informed him, or than she herself knew. The smithy was still open when he returned home in the twilight, and had as usual a little band collected in it of men, observers upon humanity and critics of its wondrous ways. John Macwhirter himself, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, was in front of the group, doing nothing, for it was warm, and it was near even his time for closing. He was rubbing his great hands together, looking meditatively into the summer air; but the observation that fell from his lips was not an original one. ‘Women are queer beings,’ was all that he said. ‘I see nothing queer in it, for my part,’ said Peter Chalmers. ‘He was well known to be after Isabel afore ever she married the minister; and now he’s come back----’ ‘Who are ye speaking of, I would like to know?’ the Dominie said, who had entered listlessly, and whom these words had excited in spite of himself. ‘There was nae offence meant,’ said Peter. ‘I ca’ her but as a’ the country-side ca’ed her afore she married the minister. And it was nae secret that ever I heard tell of. I’ve seen them thegither on the braes and on the road. It was kept quiet, I’ve ay heard, out of consideration for Margret; who couldna bide the lad. And syne when Margret died he was sent for hame--and out o’ sight out o’ mind is the way of the world. But now that she’s free, and he’s come back, ye canna crush nature. If they come thegither again, as is to be expected, what’s that to you or me?’ ‘Again, I ask, who are ye speaking of?’ said Mr. Galbraith with grim emphasis.