Without a thought of fear, either of the storm or the evil spirit that might be roaming the hillside, she half ran, half clambered upward till she came upon her father lying low. In a moment she was by his side, and had lifted his head, drying his face with her dress, and kissing him, with a crooning as of a mother over her child.
He was not dead. For that she was thankful. She could feel the throb of his heart, and in his throat there was a sound as of sobbing breath.
"Father, father," she cried; then, whispering in his ear, "Father of me, father of me, oh, dear to my heart, all is well! I am Sorcha! There is no evil thing here. Come home! Come home!"
She felt the shiver that went over him. Then he sought with his hand, and clasped that which went to meet it.
"What is it, Sorcha? Where am I?"
"Ah, father, dear father, you are well now: arise: I will lead you home!"
"Home?"
"Yes; do you not hear the wind and the rain? Ah—h—!"
Again a bursting roar overhead, and the whole of Iolair a beacon of flame whereon every boulder and crag stood out clear as in brilliant moonlight.
"I remember! I remember!" Cameron cried, as he staggered to his feet. "Was it you, Sorcha, who took my hands a little ago, when—when—I was speaking to—to—Marsail?..."