“You are shivering in your thin frock at the window, Miss Strathsay,” said the little gray governess.

“Come here, Ailie, and hold the candle,” said Angus.  “Effie has great schemes of terror with this in the dormitories, o’ nights.  There!” and he whirled the lighted match out of the window.

Just then I turned, the little flame fell on my muslin sleeve,—­a cloud of smoke, a flash, a flare, the cape round my face soared in blaze, it seemed that I was wrapt in fire!

Angus caught me on the instant, crushed the burning things with his fingers, had his coat round me, had all drenched in the water that the governess had raced after, and then I knew no more.

So the women put me to bed, while Angus brought the surgeon; then they forbade him the room, and attended to my wants; but all night long he paced the halls and heard my moans, and by daybreak I was stupefied.  He waited a week, but they would not suffer him to see me, and then his leave of absence had expired.

One night I woke; I felt that the room was darkly rich with the star-lighted gloom, but I could see nothing, for all the soft, cool linen folds; and lying there half-conscious for a time, I seemed to feel some presence in the door-way there.

“Angus, is that you?” I asked.

“Oh, Ailie darling!” he cried, and came forward and fell on his knees by my side, and covered my hands with his tears.

“Poor Angus!” I said, in my muffled way, and I tried half to rise, and I was drawing away a hand that I might dash the tears off his face.

Then of a sudden it came over me in one great torrid flush, and I fell back without a word.

But at the moment, the little gray governess came in again from her errand, and he went.  ’T was no use his waiting, though he lingered still a day or two in hopes to see me; but my head was still on my pillow.  His time was more than up, he must to the ship, so he left me store of messages and flowers and glass-bred grapes, and was off.

Time wore away, I got about again, and all was as before, long ere the girls came back, or Miss Dunreddin.  I went near no moors, I looked no more out of my window, I only sat on the stool by my bedside and kept my face hid in the valances; and the little gray governess would sit beside me and cheer me, and tell me it was not so bad when all was said, and beauty was but little worth, and years would efface much, that my hair was still as dark and soft, my eyes as shining, my——­But all to what use?  Where had flown the old Strathsay red from my cheek, where that smooth polish of brow, where——­I, who had aye been the flower of the race, the pride of the name, could not now bide to brook my own glance in the glass.