Here they
were halted by a young man somewhat older than Martin. Tall and gaunt
he stood. His face, pale and pock-marked and lit by light blue eyes, and
crowned by brilliant red hair, was, with all its unloveliness, a face of
a certain rugged beauty; while his manner and bearing showed the native
courtesy of a Highland gentleman.
"You are seeking Mr. Allan?" he said, taking off his bonnet to the girl.
"He is in yonder," waving his hand towards the kirkyard.
"In yonder? You are sure, Mr. Maclise?" She might well ask, for never
but on Sabbath days, since the day they had laid his mother away under
the birch trees, had Allan put foot inside the kirkyard.
"Half an hour ago he went in," replied the young Highlander, "and he has
not returned."
"I will go in, then," said the girl, and hesitated, unwilling that a
stranger's eyes should witness what she knew was waiting her there.
"You, Sir, will perhaps abide with me," suggested Mr. Maclise to Martin,
with a quick understanding of her hesitation.
"Oh, thank you," cried Moira. "This is Mr. Martin from Canada, Mr.
Maclise--my brother's great friend. Mr. Maclise is our schoolmaster
here," she added, turning to Martin, "and we are very proud of him."
The Highlander's pale face became the colour of his brilliant hair as he
remarked, "You are very good indeed, Miss Cameron, and I am glad to make
the acquaintance of Mr.
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