nions
from the time of their infancy. Her father, Sir Oscar Redmain, of
Kilmory Castle, was the steward of Earl Hamish of Bute, and Ailsa was
even as a sister to the two lads of Rothesay Castle. With Kenric, the
younger of the earl's sons, she had been taught what little there was to
be learned in those rude times, under Godfrey Thurstan, the Abbot of St.
Blane's, a wise and holy man who, next to Earl Hamish himself, was held
in the highest honour of all men in Bute.

Now, just as Kenric, unable to soothe Ailsa, was turning to leave her, a
shadow passed between him and the evening sunlight, and at the head of
the bank there walked an aged woman, bearing upon her bent back a bundle
of faggots. Ailsa raised her blue eyes, and at sight of the old woman
shrank back and felt in her dark hair for the sprig of feathery rowan
leaves that she wore there as a charm against witchcraft.

"Give you good e'en, my lord of Bute," said the old woman, seeing Kenric
and dropping her bundle on the ground.

At these strange words Kenric's cheeks grew crimson.

"I am no lord, Elspeth Blackfell," said he, going nearer and trying to
fathom her meaning in her wrinkled and grimy face, "and I know no reason
for your calling me by that high name."

"Not yet," said the old crone, "not yet. But by my sooth, the time will
surely come, and that full speedily, when all shall hail you lord of Bute."

"I seek no sooth from such as you," said Kenric frowning; "and you shall
win naught from me by your false flatteries."

Just then he felt the hand of Ailsa drawing him back as though to keep
him from the blighting touch of the old woman's bony fingers.

"Go not so near to her!" whispered the girl, making the sign of the
cross. "Let her not touch you with her evil hands, lest she put her
enchantments upon you."

Old Elspeth smiled grimly, and showed the one lonely tooth that was in
the front of her shrunken gums.

"Heed not the child's silly fears," said she to Kenric, "and tell me,
for what cause has she been weeping?"

"It was a stoat that harried an ouzel's nest and slew the birds,"
replied Kenric.

"Bairns weep at trifles," said Elspeth; "what matters the death of a
little bird? The stoat must live by the food that the great God gives
it, and the birds must die when their time comes. 'Tis alike with all
God's creatures upon earth. Even the castle of Rothesay is no more free
at this moment from its secret enemy than is the smallest wildfowl'