“It’s my diploma, Jock.  I can practise when I like.  It’s all right.  I want to show it to Edie.”

“The best you can do is to forget all about Edie,” said I.

Never have I seen a man’s face change as his did when I said those words.

“What!  What d’ye mean, Jock Calder?” he stammered.

He let go his hold of the precious diploma as he spoke, and away it went over the hedge and across the moor, where it stuck flapping on a whin-bush; but he never so much as glanced at it.  His eyes were bent upon me, and I saw the devil’s spark glimmer up in the depths of them.

“She is not worthy of you,” said I.

He gripped me by the shoulder.

“What have you done?” he whispered.  “This is some of your hanky-panky!  Where is she?”

“She’s off with that Frenchman who lodged here.”

I had been casting about in my mind how I could break it gently to him; but I was always backward in speech, and I could think of nothing better than this.

“Oh!” said he, and stood nodding his head and looking at me, though I knew very well that he could neither see me, nor the steading, nor anything else.  So he stood for a minute or more, with his hands clenched and his head still nodding.  Then he gave a gulp in his throat, and spoke in a queer dry, rasping voice.

“When was this?” said he.

“This morning.”

“Were they married?”

“Yes.”

He put his hand against the door-post to steady himself.

“Any message for me?”

“She said that you would forgive her.”

“May God blast my soul on the day I do!  Where have they gone to?”

“To France, I should judge.”

“His name was de Lapp, I think?”

“His real name is de Lissac; and he is no less than a colonel in Boney’s Guards.”

“Ah! he would be in Paris, likely.  That is well!  That is well!”

“Hold up!” I shouted.  “Father!  Father!  Bring the brandy!”

His knees had given way for an instant, but he was himself again before the old man came running with the bottle.

“Take it away!” said he.

“Have a soop, Mister Horscroft,” cried my father, pressing it upon him.  “It will give you fresh heart!”

He caught hold of the bottle and sent it flying over the garden hedge.

“It’s very good for those who wish to forget,” said he; “I am going to remember!”

“May God forgive you for sinfu’ waste!” cried my father aloud.

“And for well-nigh braining an officer of his Majesty’s infantry!” said old Major Elliott, putting his head over the hedge.  “I could have done with a nip after a morning’s walk, but it is something new to have a whole bottle whizz past my ear.  But what is amiss, that you all stand round like mutes at a burying?”

In a few words I told him our trouble, while Jim, with a grey face and his brows drawn down, stood leaning against the door-post.  The Major was as glum as we by the time I had finished, for he was fond both of Jim and of Edie.