His paroxysm was only one of the great spasms of madness which sometimes come over the innocently witless.  He had heard close by him the cries of Winsome Charteris, whom he had worshipped for years almost in the place of the God whom he had not the understanding to know.  The wonder rather was that he did not kill Greatorix outright.  Had it happened a few steps nearer the great stone dyke, there is little doubt but that Jock Gordon would have beat out the assailant’s brains with a ragged stone.

Winsome had not yet awakened enough to ask how all these things came about.  She could only cling to Meg, and listen to Ralph whispering in her ear.

“I can go home now,” she said earnestly.

So Ralph and Meg helped her up, Ralph wrapping her in her great crimson-barred shawl.

Ralph would have kissed her, but Winsome, standing unsteadily clasping Meg’s arm, said tenderly: 

“Not to-night.  I am not able to bear it.”

It was almost midnight when Ralph and the silent Jock Forrest got Agnew Greatorix into the spring-cart to be conveyed to Greatorix Castle.

He lay with his eyes closed, silent.  Ralph took Jock Gordon to the manse with him, determined to tell the whole to Mr. Welsh if necessary; but if it were not necessary, to tell no one more than he could help, in order to shelter Winsome from misapprehension.  It says something for Ralph that, in the turmoil of the night and the unavailing questionings of the morning, he never for a moment thought of doubting his love.  It was enough for him that in the depths of agony of body or spirit she had called out to him.  All the rest would be explained in due time, and he could wait.  Moreover, so selfish is love, that he had never once thought of Jess Kissock from the moment that his love’s cry had pealed across the valley of the elder-trees and the plain of the water meadows.

When he brought Jock Gordon, hardly yet humanly articulate, into the kitchen of the manse, the house was still asleep.  Then Ralph wakened Manse Bell, who slept above.  He told her that Jock Gordon had taken a fit upon the moor, that he had found him ill, and brought him home.  Next he went up to the minister’s room, where he found Mr. Welsh reading his Bible.  He did not know that the minister had watched him both come and go from his window, or that he had remained all night in prayer for the lad, who, he misdoubted, was in deep waters.

As soon as Jock Gordon had drunk the tea and partaken of the beef ham which Manse Bell somewhat grumblingly set before him, he said: 

“Noo, I’ll awa’.  The tykes’ll be after me, nae doot, but it’s no in yin o’ them to catch Jock Gordon gin yince he gets into the Dungeon o’ Buchan.”

“But ye maun wait on the minister or Maister Peden.  They’ll hae muckle to ask ye, nae doot!” said Bell, who yearned for news.

“Nae doot, nae doot!” said daft Jock Gordon, “an’ I hae little to answer.  It’s no for me to tie the rape roond my ain craig [neck].  Na, na, time aneu’ to answer when I’m afore the sherra at Kirkcudbright for this nicht’s wark.”