Chapter 8 - Page 2

Dishart," Wearyworld whispered, "that the
Egyptian diddled baith the captain and the shirra? It's my
official opinion that she's no better than a roasted onion, the
which, if you grip it firm, jumps out o' sicht, leaving its coat
in your fingers. Mr. Dishart, you can pass."

The policeman turned down the school wynd, and Gavin, who had
already heard exaggerated accounts of the strange woman's escape
from the town-house, proceeded along the Tenements. He walked in
the black shadows of the houses, though across the way there was
the morning light.

In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had, as it were, put
on the black cap; but now, even though he shook his head angrily
with every thought of her, the scene in Windyghoul glimmered
before his eyes. Sometimes when he meant to frown he only sighed,
and then having sighed he shook himself. He was unpleasantly
conscious of his right hand, which had flung the divit. Ah, she
was shameless, and it would be a bright day for Thrums that saw
the last of her. He hoped the policemen would succeed in--. It was
the gladsomeness of innocence that he had seen dancing in the
moonlight. A mere woman could not be like that. How soft--. And
she had derided him; he, the Auld Licht minister of Thrums, had
been flouted before his people by a hussy. She was without
reverence, she knew no difference between an Auld Licht minister,
whose duty it was to speak and hers to listen, and herself. This
woman deserved to be--. And the look she cast behind her as she
danced and sang! It was sweet, so wistful; the presence of purity
had silenced him. Purity! Who had made him fling that divit? He
would think no more of her. Let it suffice that he knew what she
was. He would put her from his thoughts. Was it a ring on her
finger?

Fifty yards in front of him Gavin saw the road end in a wall of
soldiers. They were between him and the manse, and he was still in
darkness. No sound reached him, save the echo of his own feet. But
was it an echo? He stopped, and turned round sharply. Now he heard
nothing, he saw nothing. Yet was not that a human figure standing
motionless in the shadow behind?

He walked on, and again heard the sound. Again he looked behind,
but this time without stopping. The figure was following him. He
stopped. So did it. He turned back, but it did not move. It was
the Egyptian!

Gavin knew her, despite the lane of darkness, despite the long
cloak that now concealed even her feet, despite the hood over her
head. She was looking quite respectable, but he knew her.

He neither advanced to her nor retreated. Could the unhappy girl
not see that she was walking into the arms of the soldiers? But
doubtless she had been