"Is Forgue a bad man, Mr. Grant?"
"I dare not trust him," answered Donal.
"Do you think he had any knowledge of this plot of his father's?"
"I cannot tell. I do not believe he would have left you to die in
the chapel."
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
RESTORATION.
The same afternoon, while Donal was reading to Arctura in the
library, there came a loud ringing of the door-bell. Donal ran to
see, and to his great delight, there was mistress Brookes, half wild
with anxious terror.
"Is my leddy safe?" she cried--then clasped Donal in her arms and
embraced him as if he had been her son.
>From the moment she discovered herself fooled, she had been
imagining all manner of terrible things--yet none so terrible as the
truth. There was no end to her objurgations, exclamations,
anathemas, and interjections.
"Now I can leave you in peace, my lady!" said Donal, who had not
resumed his seat.
"Noo ye can bide whaur ye are, an' be thankfu'!" said mistress
Brookes. "Wha daur meddle wi' ye, an' me i' the hoose! An' wha kens
what the mad yerl, for mad I s' uphaud him, an' fit only to be
lockit up--wha kens what he may do neist! Maister Grant, I cannot
lat ye oot o' the hoose."
"I was only going as far as mistress Comin's," replied Donal.
"Weel, ye can gang; but min' ye're hame i' gude time!"
"I thought of putting up there, but I will do as my lady pleases.
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