What Kerruish Kinvig had once said of Christian and this young woman flashed across his mind at that instant. "No, my girl, no. Christian is helping the Castle Rushen men to lay hands on that gang of scoundrels, you know."
"He is not with them, sir," said Mona, with a fearful effort.
"Oh, yes, though; I sent Jemmy after him to instruct him. But he'll be home soon; I expect him every minute. I hope they've captured the vagabonds."
It was terrible to go on. Mona lifted up her whole soul in prayer for this old man, whose hour of utmost need had now come. And she herself was to deal the blow that must shatter his happiness. "God help him," she muttered, passionately, and the involuntary prayer was made audible.
Mylrea Balladhoo rose stiffly to his feet. He looked for an instant and in silence into the pale face before him.
"What is it?" he faltered, with an affrighted stare. "What news? Is Christian— Where is Christian? Have the scoundrels—injured him?"
"He was one of themselves," said Mona, and dropped to her knees in the depth of her agony.
Then slowly, disjointedly, inconsequentially, repeating incident after incident beginning again and again, explaining, excusing, praying for pardon, and clasping the old man's knees in the tempest of her passion, Mona told the whole story as she knew it: how she had heard too late that Christian had gone out in Kisseck's boat; how she tried to compass his rescue; how, at the very crown and top
