The hill had been illumined thus for nearly half a minute.  During that time not even a dog stirred.  The shadows of human beings lay on the ground as motionless as logs.  What had been revealed seemed less a gypsy marriage than a picture.  Or was it that during the ceremony every person on the hill had been turned into stone?  The gypsy king, with his arm upraised, had not had time to let it fall.  The men and women behind him had their mouths open, as if struck when on the point of calling out.  Lord Rintoul had risen in the dogcart and was leaning forward.  One of McKenzie’s feet was on the shaft.  The man crouching in the dogcart’s wake had flung up his hands to protect his face.  The precentor, his neck outstretched, had a hand on each knee.  All eyes were fixed, as in the death glare, on Gavin and Babbie, who stood before the king, their hands clasped over the tongs.  Fear was petrified on the woman’s face, determination on the man’s.

They were all released by the crack of the thunder, but for another moment none could have swaggered.

“That was Lord Rintoul in the dogcart,” Babbie whispered, drawing in her breath.

“Yes, dear,” Gavin answered resolutely, “and now is the time for me to have my first and last talk with him.  Remain here, Babbie.  Do not move till I come back.”

“But, Gavin, he has seen.  I fear him still.”

“He cannot touch you now, Babbie.  You are my wife.”

In the vivid light Gavin had thought the dogcart much nearer than it was.  He called Lord Rintoul’s name, but got no answer.  There were shouts behind, gypsies running from the coming rain, dogs whining, but silence in front.  The minister moved on some paces.  Away to the left he heard voices—­

“Who was the man, McKenzie?”

“My lord, I have lost sight of you.  This is not the way to the camp.”

“Tell me, McKenzie, that you did not see what I saw.”

“Rintoul, I beseech you to turn back.  We are too late.”

“We are not too late.”

Gavin broke through the darkness between them and him, but they were gone.  He called to them, and stopped to listen to their feet.

“Is that you, Gavin?” Babbie asked just then.

For reply, the man who had crept up to her clapped his hand upon her mouth.  Only the beginning of a scream escaped from her.  A strong arm drove her quickly southward.

Gavin heard her cry, and ran back to the encampment.  Babbie was gone.  None of the gypsies had seen her since the darkness cause back.  He rushed hither and thither with a torch that only showed his distracted face to others.  He flung up his arms in appeal for another moment of light; then he heard Babbie scream again, and this time it was from a distance.  He dashed after her; he heard a trap speeding down the green sward through the broom.

Lord Rintoul had kidnapped Babbie.  Gavin had no other thought as he ran after the dogcart from which the cry had come.  The earl’s dog followed him, snapping at his heels.  The rain began.