He lifted his head and listened.
"Alastair!"
The sudden fear passed from his eyes. A smile came into them, and his lips parted:
"Lora ... Lora bhàn ... Lora, my beautiful gloom ... my fawn ... my little one...."
As he spoke, with low, caressing, yearning voice, he looked into the heart of the pool again, and stretched forward his arms longingly.
A sob behind him fell upon his ears. Startled, he sprang back.
For more than a minute, he looked intently at Lora and Mrs. Maclean. Then, slowly, some reminiscence worked in his brain. Slowly, too, the dark veil began to lift from his mind; slightly, and for a brief while at most.
"Mary!"
Mrs. Maclean made a step toward him, but stopped. The peace that was about her at all times breathed from her, and lay upon him. The benediction of her eyes upheld him.
Quietly she spoke, with her right hand pointing to the sobbing woman at her side.