and our swords have reeked with the blood of the same enemies—it is impossible I should harm him!"
"That you will do so," answered Ranald, "is certain, though the cause be hid in the darkness of futurity. You say," said he, suppressing his own emotions with difficulty, "that side by side you have pursued your prey like blood-hounds—have you never seen blood-hounds turn their fangs against each other, and fight over the body of a throttled deer?"
"It is false," said M'Aulay, starting up; "these are not the forebodings of fate, but the temptation of some evil spirit from the bottomless pit!" So saying, he strode out of the cabin.
"Thou hast it!" said the Son of the Mist, looking after him with an air of exultation; "the barbed arrow is in thy side!—Spirits of the slaughtered! rejoice! soon shall your murderers' swords be dyed in each others' blood."
On the succeeding morning all was pre-
