As he was going home in the dark of a clouded moonlight, just as he reached the place where he found lord Forgue, Donal caught sight of the vague figure of a man apparently on the watch, and put himself a little on his guard as he went on. It was Kennedy. He came up to him in a hesitating way.
“Stephen,” said Donal, for he seemed to wait for him to speak first, “you may thank God you are not now in hiding.”
“I wad never hide, sir. Gien I had killed the man, I wad hae hauden my face til ’t. But it was a foolish thing to do, for it’ll only gar the lass think the mair o’ him: they aye side wi’ the ane they tak to be ill-used!”
“I thought you said you would in any case have no more to do with her!” said Donal.
Kennedy was silent for a moment.
“A body may tear at their hert,” he muttered, “but gien it winna come, what’s the guid o’ sweirin’ oot it maun!”
“Well,” returned Donal, “it may be some comfort to you to know that, for the present at least, and I hope for altogether, the thing is put a stop to. The housekeeper at the castle knows all about it, and she and I will do our best. Her grandparents know too. Eppie herself and lord Forgue have both of them promised there shall be no more of it. And I do believe, Kennedy, there has been nothing more than great silliness on either side. I hope you will not forget yourself again. You gave me a promise and broke it!”
“No i’ the letter, sir—only i’ the speerit!” rejoined Kennedy: “I gaedna near the castel!”
“‘Only in the spirit!’ did you say, Stephen? What matters the word but for the spirit? The Bible itself lets the word go any time for the spirit! Would it have been a breach of your promise if you had gone to the castle on some service to the man you almost murdered? If ever you lay your hand on the lad again, I’ll do my best to give you over to justice. But keep quiet, and I’ll do all I can for you.”
Kennedy promised to govern himself, and they parted friends.