Sunday came
and went without yielding a trace of him; and, almost in despair,
they resolved, if unsuccessful the next day, to get assistance and
organize a search for him. Monday passed like the days that had
preceded it, and they were returning dejectedly down the left bank
of the Wan Water, in the gloamin', and nearing a part where it
is hemmed in by precipitous rocks, and is very narrow and deep,
crawling slow and black under the lofty arch of an ancient bridge
that spans it at one leap, when suddenly they caught sight of a head
peering over the parapet. They dared not run for fear of terrifying
him, if it should be the laird, and hurried quietly to the spot.
But when they reached the end of the bridge its round back was bare
from end to end. On the other side of the river, the trees came
close up, and pursuit was hopeless in the gathering darkness.
"Laird, laird! they've taen awa' Phemy, an' we dinna ken whaur to
luik for her," cried the poor father aloud.
Almost the same instant, and as if he had issued from the ground,
the laird stood before them. The men started back with astonishment
--soon changed into pity, for there was light enough to see how
miserable the poor fellow looked. Neither exposure nor privation
had thus wrought upon him: he was simply dying of fear. Having
greeted Joseph with embarrassment, he kept glancing doubtfully at
Malcolm, as if ready to run on his least movement. In a few words
Joseph explained their quest, with trembling voice and tears that
would not be denied enforcing the tale.
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