He looked at Katherine almost sternly when he went back to the house; though he gave her the lilies, and bid her keep her soul sweet and pure as their white bells.  She was sitting by Mistress Gordon’s side, in one of those tall-backed Dutch chairs, whose very blackness and straightness threw into high relief her own undulating roundness and mobility, the glowing colours of her Indian silk gown, the shining amber against her white throat, and the picturesque curl and flow of her fair hair.  Captain Hyde sat opposite, bending toward her; and his aunt reclined upon the couch, and watched them with a singular look of speculation in her half-shut eyes.

Joanna was talking to Neil Semple in the recess of a window; but Neil’s face was white with suppressed anger, and, though he seemed to be listening to her, his eyes—­full of passion—­were fixed upon Hyde.  Perhaps the young soldier was conscious of it; for he occasionally addressed some trivial remark to him, as if to prevent Neil from losing sight of the advantages he had over him.

“The vera air o’ this room is gunpowdery,” thought the elder; “and ane or the other will be flinging a spark o’ passion into it, and then the de’il will be to pay.  O’er many women here!  O’er many women here!  One is enough in any house.  I’ll e’en tak’ the lasses hame mysel’; and I’ll speak to Joris for his daughter,—­as good now as any other time.”

Then he said in his blandest tones, “Joanna, my dearie, you’ll hae to tell Neil the rest o’ your tale the morn; and, Katherine, put awa’ now that bit o’ busy idleness, and don your hoods and mantles, baith o’ you.  I’m going to tak’ you hame, and I dinna want to get my deathe wi’ the river mist.”

“Pray, sir,” said Hyde, “consider me at your service.  I have occasion to go into town at once, and will do your duty to the young ladies with infinite pleasure.”

“Much obliged, Captain, vera much obliged; but it tak’s an auld wise-headed, wise-hearted man like mysel’ to walk safely atween twa bonnie lasses;” then turning to his son, he added, “Neil, my lad, put your beaver on, and go and find Bram.  You can tell him, as he didna come to look after his sisters afore this hour, he needna come at a’.”

“Do you know, father, where Bram is likely to be found?”

“Hum-m-m!  As if you didna know yoursel’!  He will dootless be among that crowd o’ young wiseacres wha are certain the safety o’ the Provinces is in their keeping.  It’s the young who ken a’ things, ken mair than councils and assemblies, and king and parliament, thegither.”

Colonel Gordon laughed.  “Never mind, sir,” he said, “they let the army alone, and the church; so you and I need hardly alarm ourselves”—­

“I’m no sure o’ that, Colonel.  When it comes to the army, it’s a mere question o’ wha can strike the hardest blows; and as to kirk matters, I’m thinking men had better meddle wi’ the things o’ God, which they canna change, than wi’ those o’ the king wi’ which they can wark a deal o’ mischief.”