mistress of the house; "sit down in the
chimney-corner, and you shall have your fill of oatcake and milk."
Colin sat down heavily, as if he were overwearied, and the farmer's
wife moved about slowly, putting before him what she had; and the
Knight saw that she did not recognise him, and that she had been
weeping quite recently. "You are sad, I can see," he said. "What is
the cause of your grief?" "I am not minded to tell that to a wandering
stranger," she replied. "Perhaps I can guess what it is," he
continued; "you have lost some dear friend, I think." "My loss is
great enough to give me grief," she answered, weeping. "I had a dear
foster-son, who went oversea to fight the heathen. He was dearer to me
than my own sons, and now news has come that he is dead in that
foreign land. And the Lady of Loch Awe, who was his wife, is to wed
another husband to-morrow. Long she waited for him, past the seven
years he was to be away, and now she would not marry again, but that a
letter has come to assure her of his death. Even yet she is fretting
because she has not had the token he promised to send her; and she
will only marry because she dare no longer delay."

"What is this token?" asked Colin. "That I know not: she has never
told," replied the foster-mother; "but oh! if he were now here
Glenurchy would never fall under the power of Baron MacCorquodale."
"Would you know Black Colin if you were to see him?" the beggar asked
meaningly; and she replied: "I think I should, for though he has been
away for years, I nursed him, and he is my own dear fosterling." "Look
well at me, then, good mother of mine, for I am Colin of Loch Awe."

The mistress of the farm seized the beggar-man by the arm, drew him
out into the light, and looked earnestly into his face; then, with a
scream of joy, she flung her arms around him, and cried: "O Colin!
Colin! my dear son, home again at last! Glad and glad I am to see you
here in time! Weary have the years been since my nursling went away,
but now you are home all will be well." And she embraced him and
kissed him and stroked his hair, and exclaimed at his bronzed hue and
his ragged attire.

The Foster-Mother's Plan

At last Colin stopped her raptures. "Tell me, mother, does my wife
seem to wish for this marriage?" he asked; and his foster-mother
answered: "Nay, my son, she would not wed now but that, thinking you
are dead, she fears the Baron's anger if she continues to refuse him.
But if you d