CHAPTER LXXIII.
IN THE NIGHT.
When he reached the town, he rode into the yard of the Morven Arms, and having found a sleepy ostler, gave up his mare: he would be better without her at the castle!—whither he was setting out to walk when the landlord appeared.
“We didna luik to see you, sir, at this time!” he said.
“Why not?” returned Donal.
“We thoucht ye was awa’ for the simmer, seein’ ye tuik the yoong gentleman wi’ ye, an’ the yerl himsel’ followt!”
“Where is he gone?” asked Donal.
“Oh! dinna ye ken, sir? hae na ye h’ard?”
“Not a word.”
“That’s verra strange, sir!—There’s a clean clearance at the castel. First gaed my lord Forgue, an’ syne my lord himsel’ an’ my leddy, an’ syne gaed the hoosekeeper—her mither was deein’, they said. I’m thinkin’ there maun be a weddin’ to the fore. There was some word o’ fittin’ up the auld hoose i’ the toon, ’cause lord Forgue didna care aboot bein’ at the castel ony langer. It’s strange ye haena h’ard, sir!”
Donal stood absorbed in awful hearing. Surely some letter must have miscarried! The sure and firm-set earth seemed giving way under his feet.