y own shoe, and to give me in a parcel the
callimanco pair."

MacLean set himself to obey, though with the expedition of a tortoise.
Crisp autumn air and vivid sunshine pouring in at window and door filled
and lit the store. The doorway framed a picture of blue sky, slow-moving
water, and ragged landing; the window gave upon crimson sumac and the gold
of a sycamore. Truelove, in her gray gown and close white cap, sat in the
midst of the bouquet of colors afforded by the motley lining of the Fair
View store, and gazed through the window at the riotous glory of this
world. At last she looked at MacLean. "When, a year ago, thee was put to
mind this store, and I, coming here to buy, made thy acquaintance," she
said softly, "thee wore always so stern and sorrowful a look that my heart
bled for thee. I knew that thee was unhappy. Is thee unhappy still?"

MacLean tied the shoestrings with elaborate care; then rose from his
knees, and stood looking down from his great height upon the Quaker
maiden. His face was softened, and when he spoke it was with a gentle
voice. "No," he said, "I am not unhappy as at first I was. My king is an
exile, and my chief is forfeited. I suppose that my father is dead. Ewin
Mackinnon, my foe upon whom I swore revenge, lived untroubled by me, and
died at another's hands. My country is closed against me; I shall never
see it more. I am named a rebel, and chained to this soil, this dull and
sluggish land, where from year's end to year's end the key keeps the
house and the furze bush keeps the cow. The best years of my
manhood--years in which I should have acquired honor--have gone from me
here. There was a man of my name amongst those gentlemen, old officers of
Dundee, who in France did not disdain to serve as private sentinels, that
their maintenance might not burden a king as unfortunate as themselves.
That MacLean fell in the taking of an island in the Rhine which to this
day is called the Island of the Scots, so bravely did these gentlemen bear
themselves. They made their lowly station honorable; marshals and princes
applauded their deeds. The man of my name was unfortunate, but not
degraded; his life was not amiss, and his death was glorious. But I, Angus
MacLean, son and brother of chieftains, I serve as a slave; giving
obedience where in nature it is not due, laboring in an alien land for
that which profiteth not, looking to die peacefully in my bed! I should be
no less than most unhappy."

He