"Will you have been fetching a silk dress for Betty?" she cried at him.

"Silk and lace and more," said Bryde.

"Not brandy," says she, her lips pursed up.

"Just brandy."

"Come and be kissing me first," said she, a little tremulously, "and then we will maybe be having a drop of it."

The halflin, a stout man now, and clever with horse, came in to the house to be seeing Bryde.

"Ye can be riving the skin off my bones," said he, "for I was telling her about yon."

"About what?" said Bryde, but I think that he kent, for his face was dark.

"About the words ye would be telling her yon night ye left wi' the kist, and her not there to be hearing. She would be giving me siller,"

said the halflin.

I am thinking he would get mair siller. And most of that day, it would be nothing but questions, Bryde sitting with his brother on his knee, and Dan going out of himself with little kindnesses.

"Hugh is not married, ye tell me. What ails the man?"

"Och," said I, "his days o' freedom will be getting fewer, for they will be at the marrying soon."

"We will be having a spree then," said Bryde. "I am thinking I have a present for Mistress Helen in my traps."

And his kists and bags and droll cases came from the stone quay in the evening, and I was greatly taken with the cunningness of the cases of leather, fashioned likely from a cow belly, and with the hair still sticking, although maybe a little bare and worn, and the corners clamped with iron, making a box of leather of a handy shape for a pack beast, or easy to be stored in a ship.

And the cries of Betty when she had her dress (all of fine black silk with much lace, fine like cobwebs), the cries of her were heartening in a body so old, but maybe a little foolish. For his mother he had a host of things--a chain of fine gold with a pearl here and there at intervals, and a watch for me of chased silver, very large and handsome. To his father he gave a bridle of plaited hair and ornamented with silver, a very fine bit of work, and too beautiful for everyday use, but Dan sat with it on his knee, and indeed it was hung in the place of honour beside his great sword.

And we sat long listening to Bryde when the strangeness wore off him, and he was telling us of how he came on board a King's ship and worked and fought until his officers were proud of him, and of how he became an officer on board a frigate, a position most difficult to attain to in those days (although there are other men from the island who have done the like, as a man can be reading in the records). He told us of his sailing days in the privateer _Spray_ in the Indies, and of his meeting with Angus McKinnon, but of these things I will not be writing at any length in this story.

The father and son left me a good way on the home road, and I made my way indoors with no noise, and there was not so much as a dog barking, and when I was in my own place I sat thinking for a long time.

And it came on me that Bryde was the wise one to be going away with his sword, and to be making a name for himself, and siller. For the Bryde that was fit to command a King's ship would be far different from the boy on a moorside farm, and I was weaving dreams like a la.s.s at her spinning when the door was opened behind me and Margaret stood looking in, a light held high in her hand and her arm bare.

"When will he be coming?" said she. It would likely be the man that was with me at the splash-net that would be telling her the news.

"He has been here already," said I, "and you sound sleeping."

"I will be easy wakened, Hamish; a chuckle stone at the window would not have been putting you out of your road. Will he be changed in his features?" says she, "and was he asking for all of us?"

"Indeed he was all questions," said I; "but I am not remembering that he spoke of you, my la.s.s."

"My motherless la.s.s! am I clean forgot then?"

"I would not say that either," said I, and told her about the window gazing.

"He will be a little blate for such a namely man," said Margaret, but I could see there was a glow of pleasure over her.

"It will be long past time for the bedding," said I.

"There is no sleep will come to me this night"; and then, "I wonder will the daylight never be coming?"

"Margaret," said I, and I am glad always that I said this--"Margaret,"

said I, "Bryde will be coming here in the morning; you will be meeting your kinsman on the road," said I, "and that will be doing him a kindness.

"Maybe he will not be for me to be meeting him, Hamish?"

"There's aye that, Margaret, but I would be risking it."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

BRYDE AND MARGARET.

I think truly there was not much sleep for Margaret, even as she said, for did not I hear her moving, and I would be thinking of her turning and twisting fornent the image-gla.s.s.

And I will tell you where the place is that they met, Bryde and Margaret, on the hill where the cairn stands and no man knows who would be the builders. For the la.s.s walked easy and slow to the Hill of the Fort, as we will be calling it, and then turned to the ridge that runs to the right hand, for that way one can be seeing all the valley. And she sat by the foot of the cairn. I am thinking that the far-seeing blue eyes of Bryde would be watching every rise and hollow, or why else would he have made the cairn, for that is not just the nearest road to the Big House.

To her he came there and stood before her, and she rose to be meeting him, but had no words of greeting. It is like she would be rehearsing in her mind how this meeting should go, but for all that she rose, and her hands clasped and pressed themselves hard at her heart, and she turned herself a little away from him, only her eyes holding his.

"Br--Bryde," was the word that came softly between her lips like a whisper.

But the man took two strides and was at her side, his hands not yet touching her, and there came a trembling on the la.s.s.

"If you cannot be loving me and keeping me for ever," said she, "do not be touching me, for if you will be touching me I am lost," and there was a dignity in her bearing, although her lips were quivering.

"I am not fit to be touching you, for I have no right folk," said he.

"Do you think it is heeding _that_ I will be, if it is me and no other that has your heart?"

"But that has aye been yours, little la.s.s, from the beginning, for there is sunshine and gladness where you are."

"Then," she cried, "then, my darling, I will not can wait any longer,"

and he held her close and looked down into her eyes. There was a place of flat rocks a little way off, and he carried her there, and a white swirl of mist hung around them, and the wind blowing it away, and the sun licking up the trailing white wreaths.

"We are on the high ground," he cried; "look, my dear, the sea below us, and the woods and the heather, the sun and the mist and the winds are round us--it is here that I would be loving to kiss you."

"Kiss me, then," she cried, "for I have been dreaming of such?"

Always when I am on the hill I will be looking at that little rocky place, and seeing these two, brave and proud and young and loving, seeing them clasped heart to heart on that high wind-swept s.p.a.ce against the sky, with the little curls and whirls of mist and the sun licking up the floating wreaths. So must the young G.o.ds have loved.

And they sat there with the wild-fowl only and the sheep to be seeing them.

"Bryde," cried the girl, looking at her man with great starry eyes and her cheeks aglow, "Bryde, will it anger you if I will be telling something."