no further snare for that maid at your gates, whose name
you have blasted, whose heart you have wrung, whose nature you have
darkened and distorted"--

"Have you done?" demanded Haward. "Once more, 't were wise to say
good-night at once."

"Not yet!" exclaimed the storekeeper, stretching out an eager hand. "That
girl hath so haunting a face. Haward, see her not again! God wot, I think
you have crushed the soul within her, and her name is bandied from mouth
to mouth. 'T were kind to leave her to forget and be forgotten. Go to
Westover: wed the lady there of whom you raved in your fever. You are her
declared suitor; 'tis said that she loves you"--

Haward drew his breath sharply and turned in his chair. Then, spent with
fatigue, irritable from recent illness, sore with the memory of the
meeting by the river, determined upon his course and yet deeply perplexed,
he narrowed his eyes and began to give poisoned arrow for poisoned arrow.

"Was it in the service of the Pretender that you became a squire of
dames?" he asked. "'Gad, for a Jacobite you are particular!"

MacLean started as if struck, and drew himself up. "Have a care, sir! A
MacLean sits not to hear his king or his chief defamed. In future, pray
remember it."

"For my part," said the other, "I would have Mr. MacLean remember"--

The intonation carried his meaning. MacLean, flushing deeply, rose from
the table. "That is unworthy of you," he said. "But since before to-night
servants have rebuked masters, I spare not to tell you that you do most
wrongly. 'Tis sad for the girl she died not in that wilderness where you
found her."

"Ads my life!" cried Haward. "Leave my affairs alone!"

Both men were upon their feet. "I took you for a gentleman," said the
Highlander, breathing hard. "I said to myself: 'Duart is overseas where I
cannot serve him. I will take this other for my chief'"--

"That is for a Highland cateran and traitor," interrupted Haward, pleased
to find another dart, but scarcely aware of how deadly an insult he was
dealing.

In a flash the blow was struck. Juba, in the next room, hearing the noise
of the overturned table, appeared at the door. "Set the table to rights
and light the candles again," said his master calmly. "No, let the cards
lie. Now begone to the quarters! 'Twas I that stumbled and overset the
table."

Following the slave to the door he locked it upon him; then turned again
to the room, and to MacLean standing waiting in the