“Do you think it is quite honorable to look at them?” said Randal. He had a presentiment who it must be. “Oh, it can’t be anybody we know,” said light-hearted Effie. Far down in the wood, under the firs, no doubt the lovers felt themselves perfectly safe; but there were treacherous groups of trees, whose branches had been swept in one direction by the wind, laying bare the two who stood beneath. They were standing close together, holding each other’s hands. “The girl is crying, I think,” said Effie, “and leaning against the man. What can be the matter? can they have quarrelled? and she is all in black, with a thick veil--” “Come to this side,” said Randal, hastily, “there is a break in the mist. I think I can show you Schehallion.” “I like this better than Schehallion,” said Effie; and then she started and cried, “O-oh!” with a long breath; and suddenly blushing all over, looked Randal in the face. “I think Schehallion is much the most interesting to look at,” he said, and, touching her elbow with his hand, endeavored to lead her away. But Effie was too much startled to conceal her wonder and alarm. “Oh, Mr. Burnside! you are not thinking of Schehallion, you only want to get me away. I believe you know who _he_ is.” “I don’t know who either is, and I don’t want to know,” cried Randal; “and I think, Miss Leslie, I must bid you good-night.” That was easy enough; but Effie did not budge, though Randal went away. CHAPTER XXIV. Effie was not a tell-tale, and she was fond of her young aunt; but still this was such a revelation as made the blood stand still in her veins. She was deeply, profoundly interested, and strained her eyes to make out “the gentleman.” Who could he be? Effie felt almost certain Mr. Burnside knew, and almost certain Mr. Burnside had seen them before, and was their confidant, or he would not have been so anxious to call her attention to Schehallion. Schehallion! nothing but a hill--whereas this was a romance! She leaned over the parapet of the tower till the night grew so dark that she took fright and felt disposed to cry for help, never thinking, unaccustomed to it as she was, that she could grope her way in safety down the spiral stair. But she did manage it, partly fortified by a generous determination not to make any noise near Aunt Jean’s room, which might end in a betrayal of the lovers. Effie would have gone to the stake rather than betray the lovers to Aunt Jean. But her mother was a different matter. She knew she could not go to bed with a secret from her mother; and perhaps it was not right, was it quite right, of Margaret? Effie reflected, however, as she stumbled down in the dark to the West Chamber, where John had just placed candles (the inspection of the pigsty being over), that perhaps grandpapa had known all about it; most likely Margaret had told him--and she had no need to tell any one else. But to meet a--gentleman, in the wood! It was the most strange, and most exciting,